


The Problem With Patrick

by SecretJungle88



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Anxiety, Band, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pete doesn't want to kick Patrick out of the band, big drama woo, cute as heck, early fob, friends/lovers vs being a successful band, it was the summer of 2001, patrick has bad stage fright, pete and patrick vs andy and joe, stage fright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-04-05 08:43:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 51,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14040471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretJungle88/pseuds/SecretJungle88
Summary: You can't exactly be a singer of a growing successful band if you have such terrible stage fright that you pass out in front of your crowds.Pete doesn't want to kick Patrick out of the band, none of them want to kick Patrick out of the band. But if Patrick can't get his act together, it might be their only option if they want to continue trying to make it in the Chicago scene.The only problem is that Pete won't ever be able to form a relationship with the man he has come to admire, if he smashes Patrick's hopes and dreams for the chance to live out his own.





	1. Prologue

The show had been announced for the 28th of August, 2002. It was an exciting day, the sun was shining the morning before and the band had been practicing for hours to ensure that their very first sold-out show was going to be a success. It was going to be spectacular, Pete had gone out and gotten a brand new bass to play with, and Andy had gotten another tattoo. It was due to be the most amazing show that Fall Out Boy had ever played.

As night fell, ticket holders lined up, and the band excitedly stood in the dressing rooms of the venue while doing their warmups. Pete’s excitement was hard to ignore, and even their manager was smiling.

Nobody noticed Patrick in the corner as he tried to warm up his voice, staring at himself in the mirror with a solemn look on his face. Nobody noticed that when he snuck off to the bathroom that his nerves came up through his stomach. The rest of the band was too preoccupied with the fact that they were about to play to their largest crowd ever to notice how their lead singer was feeling.

Maybe if they had paid more attention, Patrick wouldn’t have gotten on stage, started the first line, then trailed off into silence. The band played on at first, before realising the words weren’t going on with the musical. Pete played the start again to try and prompt Patrick to pick back up, but there was no response from the man at the front, who took a long look at the crowd, and promptly passed out right then and there.


	2. you say please don't ever change but you don't like me the way I am

It had to have been a sunny day. It had to have been a really good rehearsal session, and it had to be the fact that by the time band practice was over, Patrick was smiling and laughing and sat down on the chair in Pete’s basement, reaching for the fridge to hand out a couple of cans of soda. Joe looked at Andy, Andy looked at Pete, and the three reached a silent agreement that this was the time to have the awkward discussion that they’d been avoiding for so long.

It was not his fault, they knew that, but trying to make it as a band in the competitive Chicago scene with a singer who had such terrible stage fright that he ran off the stage as soon as he started with the first note was near impossible. It hadn’t always been this way, but as their album sold more copies, and more people started coming out to the shows, Patrick’s ability to stand at the front of the stage and belt out the lyrics had deteriorated to almost a completely inability.

“Patrick, it’s not that we don’t think you’re a good singer, we really think you’re amazing, but, well, we just can’t perform like this anymore…” Joe tried to explain, breaking the silence. Pete’s eyes gazed at the floor, unable to make eye contact with his friend.

“Hmm?” Patrick glanced up, shifting around in his seat while nervously placing the four cans of soda on the table beside him. “W-What’s going on?”

The situation was dire, and everyone in the room knew the awkwardness and discomfort that was about to come. Andy sat down beside the singer and exhaled. “It’s time we had a chat about the last 5 shows.”

Patrick immediately paled, and glanced down at his lap. “I-I don’t mean to do it, a-and I think I’m getting better! I mean, I mean, last show I got through two songs, and that was an improvement!”

“The label has had to refund all the tickets to all of the shows, ‘Trick.” Pete whispered. “And the deposits on the venue were non-refundable. They’re not gonna keep us signed if we can’t play shows, shows that they’re paying for whether we play them or not.”

“But we can! J-Just, smaller shows!” Patrick fumbled for an answer. He wasn’t one to cry, but there’s no doubt that when your band members tell you that you’re failing all of them and the label, it’s pretty hard not to.

“Patrick, we don’t want to drop you. We don’t want to replace you. We just want to help you sort this out, okay?” Joe placed a hand on his shoulder. The sentence hung in the area for a few moments while Patrick wiped his eyes and nose. 

“So I’m n-not good enough but you don’t w-want to do a-anything about it?” Patrick asked quietly.

“We’re not saying you’re not good enough. We know you’re good enough. You’re better than good enough!” Joe tried to lift the mood. “We just wanna help you through this….” He trailed off trying to find the right word. “Hiccup?”

Patrick let out a muffled sob and Pete felt his heart sink in his chest. He’d been trying so hard to help his friend, he’d made an effort to take him to crowded places, and take him to loud parties, and even other gigs to hopefully, well, inspire him? Pete didn’t understand it either but he just wanted to help. Not just for the band, but for Patrick too.

As long as they’d known each other, Patrick had dreamed of being a singer. Pete had been proudly by his side with his bass and his lyric books, and had been so proud of him as they’d practiced and practiced and improved, and were finally at a place where they were starting to deal with some success.

And now that had all come crashing down in Pete’s basement on a Wednesday afternoon, when Patrick cried and the other three members stood there with heavy hearts and guilt sitting on their shoulders. 

“We don’t want to cancel any shows or have replacements brought in at all.” Andy pulled a chair directly across from Patrick and looked into his eyes. “We’re going to postpone the next 3 shows, well we don’t really have a choice, the label is making us do that, but yeah, and then they want you to go and see a psych or something. Just, I don’t know, to talk about it?”

“I-I’m not crazy, g-guys, I just…”

“None of us think you’re crazy, ‘Trick.” Pete walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Look, think of it this way. What would happen if you got up there, you passed out, and fell down and smashed your head on the stage. What would happen if we couldn’t get an ambulance there in time because all the fans would be taking up the space? We just want to help you so you can do what you want without these risks.”

“I s-should just be able to do it.” He mumbled uncomfortably.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Patrick. We’re just gonna suspend a couple of shows and get you a little bit of help so when we get back up on that stage, we’re ready and we’ll be able to rock it.”

The others murmured in agreement. Patrick grabbed a tissue and wiped his face, before sighing and looking down at his lap. “O-okay…”

“Awesome.” Pete smiled, patting Patrick’s shoulder. “Now let’s go get some food because I’m hungry and need something salty and greasy or I could eat everything in this room.”

Joe rolled his eyes playfully, but nodded and put the drinks that Patrick had lovingly pulled out for them back in the fridge. “Alright, c’mon, let’s go get a burger and put this behind us.”

Patrick didn’t argue, just solemnly followed his bandmates out to the car, still thinking about the weight of their words, the implications on not just him, but everyone.


	3. the alcohol never lies, never lies

Even after taking Patrick to his favourite burger place and shouting him lunch, Pete knew that he wasn’t doing too well with the news. He had put on a smile and a happy disposition to try and fool the others, and although Andy and Joe had taken it as truth, Pete had seen straight through it. And so after dropping Andy and Joe home from lunch, he followed Patrick’s car back to his apartment to chat.

Patrick’s apartment wasn’t exactly five-star luxury, but he didn’t seem to mind all that much. An apartment in the lower part of town can always look nice with the right interior, but Patrick’s basement-level, one-bedroom joint was always a little bit sad-looking at the best of times.

When Pete walked in and found Patrick on the ground in front of the TV with his hand wrapped around a half-empty bottle of heavy liquor, the place looked sadder than ever. Patrick didn’t even notice him walk in, he was just blankly staring at the episode of House Hunters that was playing on the TV.

“House hunters?” Pete asked with a slight chuckle, trying to make light of the situation. He walked over and gently pulled the bottle away from his friend and sat down beside him. “Which one do you think they’re gonna buy?”

Patrick mumbled a response, glancing back up at the screen. He hadn’t been paying heavy attention, but House Hunters isn’t exactly heavy viewing. “The seaside one is the best one for them, it’s got enough bedroommmmms…”

Pete glanced back down at the bottle and winced when he saw how much was missing, especially considering he’d bought this bottle for Patrick as a late Christmas present a few days ago. He wasn’t sure how much his friend had consumed tonight, but he did know that Patrick never got this drunk by himself, and this was a situation he’d never really been in before.

“Hey, ‘Trick, after this episode, do you wanna go grab a bag of some clothes for me?” Pete asked during a commercial break. “You can come back and stay at my house.”

Patrick, in his highly intoxicated state, just blinked a couple of times and turned his attention back to the TV. Pete sighed and got up from the couch, headed to Patrick’s bedroom and sorted through a couple of drawers until he had a set of clothes for the next day, and a spare pair just in case.

Pete turned back around and went to go and return to his friend, but paused. Sure, he knew Patrick was going through a bit of a rough time right now but was this really what he was up to when band practice was over? Bottles upon bottles of liquor sat on his nightstand, the blankets mostly either thrown messily on the floor or in a heap on the bed. The curtains had been torn - Pete wasn’t exactly sure how that happened – and there were empty plates and cups littering the entire floor.

It just made him sad. How had he not noticed this? Andy, Joe and himself were over here constantly, well, not as constantly as the other places, but considering that this room was always tucked away and had the door always closed, it was easy to miss.

He was about to start picking some of the older-looking ones up to take to the kitchen to wash, when he heard a loud thud from the lounge room, and quickly sprinted back. Patrick had doubled over, and thrown up on the carpet.

Pete ran in to help, and gently lifted his friend back onto the sofa, before running to the kitchen to grab some cleaning supplies. While Patrick laid on the sofa and groaned in pain, Pete cleaned the floors and washed the dishes and put all the bottles in a trash bag to be taken out. When he was finally done, he sat down beside his friend and breathed out a long sigh. “You’re not doing too well, are you, Patrick?”

Patrick groaned again, clutching his stomach, obviously not paying attention. Pete took his hat off, grabbed the bundle of clothes he’d thrown together, and pulled Patrick to his feet, before leading him out to the car. The drive home was mostly silent, with Patrick just staring at his lap and Pete just focusing on the road.

The Wentz house was a stark difference to Patrick’s little basement. It was a double story, detached house with a large backyard and a garage. Only Pete lived there, but he took pride in it, despite the fact that the rent took most of his income. After parking the car and grabbing his stuff, he put an arm around Patrick and led him inside. For some reason, he just led him to his own bed, rather than the spare he kept prepared for emergencies.

Patrick, at this point, was hardly standing up straight and fell straight over onto the mattress. Pete pulled his shoes off and gently pulled the blanket up over him before Patrick just started crying. It was probably the alcohol, but Pete’s heart just sank and he sat down on the floor beside the bed so they were at eye level.

“I’m sorry Patrick, we didn’t want to hurt you, you know we’d never want to hurt you.” Pete sighed, gently brushing the hair out of his friend’s eyes. “We were just kinda hoping it’ll get better on its own, but…” he trailed off thinking about what he’d seen back at Patrick’s place. “I think you might need a little bit of help.”

“I-I’m just a b-bad singer!” Patrick cried, pulling the blanket over his head in a child-like manner.

“You’re the best fucking singer in the world, Patrick. We love you as our singer.” Pete told him gently. “We need you, and we just wanna help you, alright?”

Patrick returned to his crying. Pete went and grabbed him a glass of water from the kitchen and brought it back to the nightstand, assuming he’d need it when he woke up. He gently tucked Patrick in for a second time, and went to leave, but was stopped.

“D-Don’t g-go, Pete.”

He turned back around slowly and looked down at his friend. “Everything alright?”

Patrick patted the bed beside him. “P-Please…”

Pete kicked his own shoes off and laid down on the bed, and Patrick shuffled right over and rested his head on Pete’s shoulder. Pete didn’t even have time to react before his friend was snoring softly.

He just gently put his arm around him and tried to drift off as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Thanks for your support on this book so far, I never imagined it would get this much attention in the first 2 days. I'm just toying around with plot ideas at the moment, but hey, I'm glad people are liking it. I'll probably get a lot written over Easter, so that's something good to look forward to :).
> 
> Thanks again,  
> ~SJ


	4. the torture of small talk

When Pete woke in the morning, the bed was empty and the glass of water he’d placed on the nightstand was dried of all its fluid. Patrick’s shoes were still at the side of the bed however, and Pete correctly assumed that Patrick was still somewhere in the house.

He found his friend in the bathroom, slumped beside a toilet bowl full of sick, with his head buried in his hands. He was still in last night’s clothes, his hair sticking up all over his head, and only one sock on.

“Morning buddy.” Pete tried to smile. “D’ya want me to grab you some water?”

Patrick groaned into his hands before glancing up at his friend. “You shouldn’t have brought me here.”

“Hmm? Patrick, if you had seen yourself last night, you’d know that leaving you there wasn’t an option.” He walked over and offered a hand out. “C’mon, let me make you some coffee.”

“This is just embarrassing, Pete.” Patrick mumbled glumly, getting to his feet.

“Not really. How many times have you helped me through a hangover?” Pete rebutted.

“More than I can count, but in those times you’ve been at a party or having a good time, not getting yourself wasted in front of House Hunters.”

“It was a good show!” Pete laughed, before returning to a serious disposition. “Look, from what I saw, you were in a rough place, and I’m not just gonna leave you there. You couldn’t even stand up, and from what I saw in your room, I mean-”

“You went into my room?!”

“I just, I had to grab you some clothes, obviously. And then there were all the dishes and the bottles, and well, yeah.” Pete turned the coffee machine on and grabbed 2 cups from the cupboard. “You don’t have to suffer in silence, Patrick. If you’re going through a rough time, let me know so I can help.”

Patrick just groaned and buried his face back in his hands. “I’m just embarrassed.”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. Do you want sugar?”

“I’m right.” Patrick mumbled, not making eye contact. “Do you have any aspirin?”

“Yeah, just in the fruit bowl there.”

“You keep aspirin in the fruit bowl?”

“I have a lot of hangovers; it needs to be on hand.” Pete laughed.

They sat down beside each other at the kitchen bench, sipping on the coffee and downing some aspirin (Patrick) and an apple (Pete). They didn’t talk a whole lot, Patrick was just sitting in shame and Pete wasn’t really sure how to start a conversation about what had happened without making him feel worse.

“J-Just, don’t tell the other guys about this, okay?” Patrick spoke eventually. “I don’t want this to become a big thing, because it’s not. It was one time, and it’s not a thing, and everything’s still normal.”

“I won’t tell the others, this can just be between us.” Pete assured him. “But from what I saw, that wasn’t just one time.”

Patrick sighed and took another sip of his coffee before trying to divert the conversation. “Is there any chance you might have grabbed my glasses?”

“Fuck!” Pete exclaimed loudly in realisation. The one thing he hadn’t grabbed! “Sorry, ‘Trick, slipped my mind.”

“It’s no big deal, I thought I’d just ask…”

“That’s my fault, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not. It’s not your fault I got so fucking wasted by myself that you had to take me out of my own house.” Patrick said this quietly, more so if he was scolding himself rather than explaining the situation to Pete.

Pete sighed, pulled the cup away from his friend and looked him straight in the eye. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I’ll respect if you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m not gonna sit here and let you dig yourself deeper into this hole. Look, you’ve seen me dig myself into a pit, and it wasn’t pretty. So I’m not letting you do the same thing.”

“Well, you already want to kick me out of the band, so it doesn’t matter!” Patrick snapped, getting up from his seat.

“I don’t want to kick you out of anything! You’re the fucking singer, Patrick! Irreplaceable! The band would not sound right without you! It’s the rest of us that are replacable!”

“What kind of singer, Pete, can’t sing in front of crowds?! A fucking useless one, that’s for sure!” Patrick yelled, before feeling a sudden slump as the anger left and he hung his head. “God, I’m sorry, I just, I need to go.”

Pete reached out to touch his shoulder, but Patrick pulled away coldly. “Um… did you grab my wallet or my phone?”

He shook his head. “Look, go get changed, have a shower, I’ve got some clothes and shoes for you, and then I’ll drop you home, alright? I won’t tell any of the other guys what’s been going on, and god, I don’t know, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow for practice?”

Patrick ran a hand through his messy hair in frustration, but nodded and grabbed his bag of clothes from the sofa, before heading to the bathroom. Pete grabbed his phone and considered who to call. He wanted to help, he wanted to be able to do everything he possibly could, but all that seemed to be doing was making his friends just feel even more inadequate.

He couldn’t call Joe and Andy, he’d promised Patrick he wouldn’t. He couldn’t call the label, that would only make them more uncertain about him. He couldn’t call his mother, Patrick would never forgive him. Pete just sighed and tucked the phone back into his pocket. 

When Patrick emerged clean and fresh, he mumbled an apology for his earlier behavior, and Pete acknowledged it was probably his fault for invading his friend’s privacy, then Patrick admitted that he was really grateful for the help last night, and the two had a brief hug before heading out to the car.

“Do you have groceries at home, Patrick?” Pete asked mindlessly as they turned a corner.

“Groceries?”

“Yeah, I mean, when was the last time you did the shopping?”

“I don’t know… not too long ago I don’t think, there should be stuff there.”

“Okay, all good. Just let me know if there’s not, I’ll grab us a pizza or something.”

Patrick smiled slightly. He knew that this was 90% an excuse for Pete to get another pizza, but there was also a nice bit of general concern and kindness underlying the message. 

“Okay, will do.”

Pete smiled and pulled the car over next to Patrick’s place. “Want me to walk you in, or are you right?”

“I’ll be fine… um… thank again for last night, you really didn’t have to do that…”

Pete just smiled as his friend got out of the car. “I’ll see you round. Stay safe, yeah?”

“Yeah. See you later.”


	5. detox just to retox

The buzz of the computer monitor on the reception desk was annoying him. In fact, everything about this place was annoying Patrick. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t think there was any point to this at all. It wasn’t like he was just going to walk in to this stupid psych’s office and all of a sudden stop passing out on stage. It didn’t make any sense at all.

Pete had driven him here, with the promise that they’d do their groceries together afterwards (Patrick hadn’t been entirely truthful about the whole ‘having groceries at home’ thing, and had been living off a nightly pizza delivered by Pete for about the last 4 days). It was a good motivation to go and do things to look after himself, when Pete was there by his side, but it still felt weird. He was an adult, a musician, someone who was meant to have his life in order, and yet here he was, sitting in a waiting room to go and see a medical professional because he couldn’t stop passing out as soon as he tried to do his job.

And to make things worse, this stupid appointment was common knowledge. Everybody in the band, even everyone back at the label knew that Patrick was going to this stupid appointment today. And that directly translated, in Patrick’s mind, to how everyone knew that he was a useless singer and a mess of a person that couldn’t control themselves and needed to lie down a bench and tell a stranger about their daddy issues.

Not that Patrick had daddy issues of course, but it seemed to him like the entire world thought that he did. Or thought that he was crazy, which was again a pretty strong possibility.

“Mr Stump?”

He was shaken from his thoughts and stood up, shaking hands with the lady in front of him while she smiled brightly (it seemed genuine, but Patrick had decided before he even saw it that is was artificial and this lady didn’t want to see him at all because he was obviously a nutcase with no hope of recovery). Pete jumped up too, and introduced himself, which wasn’t really necessary, but Patrick was glad for the support.

Part of Pete wanted to go in too, wanted to listen and wanted to know exactly what was going on inside Patrick’s head so he could help out. He wanted to know exactly what to do to help his friend, but as he watched Patrick walk down the hallway with the psychologist that the label had booked him in to see, Pete realised that wasn’t really an option.

The session was an hour and a half, and having promised Patrick that they’d do groceries together afterwards, there wasn’t really a point in going home. He’d just sit down for about 10 minutes and then have to come back out again, so he drove to Andy’s house, considering that it was the closest to the office that Patrick was now sitting in.

Andy was home, thankfully, and welcomed Pete inside to sit down and chat. Andy, knowing about the appointment, immediately began pelting Pete with questions about he was doing.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s good.” 

“Joe said you guys had been hanging out like, every day. Is there a reason for that?”

“Well, I mean like, you know the news was kinda hard, and he’s putting a lot of pressure and doubt on himself because of it and, yeah, it’s just not really very good, so I’m just like, being around so if he needs someone to talk to or to reassure him then there’s always someone there.”

“Is he alright? I mean, apparently he spent the night at your place a couple of days ago.”

“How did you know that?”

“Joe said he heard from Bob, and apparently either you or Patrick told Bob? I don’t know.”

“I told Bob.” Pete sighed, remembering that conversation with their manager. “I just, I didn’t know who to talk to.”

Andy gestured to himself.

“Patrick asked me not to talk to you guys. He doesn’t want you to worry.”

“Worry? Worry about what? What’s going on?”

“He… had a hiccup the other night.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there might have been some alcohol involved and I had to take him back to mine for his own personal safety?” Pete winced as the words came out of his mouth.

“Oh, jesus…”

“Mmmhmmm.” Pete murmured. “Look, he’s just in a dark place, but I’ve got it under control, and don’t say anything to the others, okay? He’s convinced himself that everyone believes that he’s crazy and can’t handle his job, and he’s just stressed. But look, I’m taking him grocery shopping, I’ve been over for dinner every night to make sure he’s eating, and yeah.”

“He’s been forgetting to eat?”

“No… well, maybe?”

“Pete!” 

“Well, I mean, look, there was no food in his house, and he’s not exactly in the right frame of mind to get dressed just to go and get some dinner, so, yeah. Look, I don’t know anything for sure. I only know what happened that one night, and what I found in his house.”

“What did you find?” Andy asked.

“Nothing!” Pete raised his hands, before sighing. He’d gotten too far deep into this mess now. “Just like, lots of empty bottles and dirty plates and the place hadn’t been cleaned in   
ages and yeah, he’s not really taking care of himself so I’ve just kind of stepped up.”

“I didn’t know it was like that.”

“Neither did I. I think this started before we had the conversation. He was probably putting the pressure on himself for it since the first concert that he fainted.”

“Yeah, probably.” Andy sighed. “Do we need to have a chat to him?”  
“That won’t help. That’ll make things worse. He just wants a sense of normalcy.” Pete explained. “If it gets worse, I’m, well, going to see if I can get him to move in with me temporarily.”

“Really? That’s a big deal.” 

“Yeah, but like, it would be easier for the both of us, especially if nothing gets better. He’s my best friend, he’s one of the few people in this world who really gets me, and I’m not letting him suffer through this alone.”

Andy smiled warmly at him, finding his words touching. Pete glanced at the time and stood up. “I should probably head back, sorry for barging in.”

“No, no, that’s all good.” Andy stood up from his seat to show Pete out. “Hey, if there’s anything I can do, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Yeah, got it. Thanks for everything.”

“See you tomorrow at practice?”

“Yeah, see you then.”

Pete was running slightly late, and Patrick was back sitting in the waiting room when he got back to the offices. He had a couple of pamphlets and papers in his hands, but his hands covered the titles so the only thing Pete could interpret was the happy photos of stock image people on the front of them.

“Hey! How’d you go?” Pete smiled.

“Yeah, it was good.” Patrick already headed towards to the door, eager to be out of this building. “So, groceries?”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go.” Pete followed him to the car. “Any particular supermarket?”

“I have a loyalty card for the one on Thomasson street.”

“Okay, cool, let’s head there then.” Pete paused a moment. “You wanna drive?”

Patrick froze, his hand already on the handle of the passenger door. “I, um… I… it’s your car, Pete.”

“Yeah, I know, I just was thinking, y’know, you haven’t driven in over 3 weeks and-” he stopped talking for a moment, realising that this was putting a bit of pressure on his friend who he was trying to keep de-stressed and un-pressured. “It’s all good, don’t stress.”

“Do you want me to drive?” Patrick asked hesitantly. “I mean, I can if you want me to. I’ve got my licence on me.”

“Only if you want to, it’s no big deal.”

“Y-You can drive…”

“Yeah, that’s all good. C’mon, groceries await!”

The drive was mostly silent, as was the walk into the store. Patrick was being mostly optimistic during the shopping, getting stuff like salads and vegetables and healthy multigrain bread, and as good as that was, Pete was a bit unsure as to whether he was actually going to take the time to make the food, or if it was going to go bad in his fridge. But that wasn’t his call to make, he was just here to offer companionship as he filled his cart with frozen pizzas and soda. And some fruit so it was reasonably healthy.

“You’re technically older than me.” Patrick laughed.

God, how happy Pete was to hear him laugh.

“I like to feed my tastebuds as well as my stomach.” He defended with a goofy grin. “You gonna get anything for your tastebuds?”

Patrick shook his head. “I think I’ll be right.”

“Okay, let’s go then.”

After a checkout, Pete drove Patrick home and helped him carry his groceries inside, and put them away. Then Pete found that half the stuff in Patrick’s fridge and cupboard was out of date and growing some sort of mould, so he threw all that out and made sure to take it out to the dumpster out the back of the building. Then he came back inside, helped Patrick with the dishes in the sink and put a load of laundry on before finally heading home for the night.

As Pete sat in his car on the drive back to his house, little did he know his friend, safe now in the confines of his apartment, reached back into the liquor cabinet for a little something to take the edge off while the happy stock image people on the front of those pamphlets smiled mockingly at him.


	6. hold me tight or don't

Message sent January 6th, 2002, 11:52am  
Pete Wentz: hey Patrick, you weren’t at band practice? Everything okay?

Message sent January 6th, 2002, 12:45pm  
Pete Wentz: do u want to meet up for dinner tonight? Im worried about u. Text me back

Message sent: January 6th, 2002, 3:26pm  
Pete Wentz: are u okay????

Message sent: January 6th, 2002, 4:48pm  
Pete Wentz: Im gonna come over and check in on you. Please text me back. Or any of the other guys if you don’t want to talk to me. Im worried.

Message sent: January 6th, 2002, 5:04pm  
Pete Wentz: I’m outside ur door, I’ve been knocking for like 20 minutes. Can you open the door plz?

 

Patrick stared at his phone, which had been buzzing non-stop for the last few hours. Texts from the other band members and the band management and even his brother had been coming and coming, and many many missed calls. He hadn’t picked up or answered any of them. Instead he had made himself a comfortable spot on the floor in his living room with a couple of friends (one bottle of blue label, a phone he refused to touch and a packet of corn chips 3 years out of date that he had found in the back of his pantry.

He’d heard Pete knocking, he just hadn’t gotten up to check on it. He didn’t want Pete to come in and see him in the exact same clothes he was wearing 4 days ago when Pete dropped him home from their grocery shopping experience. He’d eaten some of it (Not a whole lot, the bread was okay when he lathered it up with peanut butter, but now that jar was empty and the vegetables just looked droopy and sad), but he was still a bit dizzy in the head due to the little amount of food, and the large amount of alcohol he’d consumed over the past few days.

“Patrick, please, I see the TV on, I know you’re in there.” Pete called from outside the door. “If you wanna ignore my texts, that’s fine, just open the door so I know you’re alright.”

“Why do you need to even check?” Patrick croaked. “Because I’m just so fucking unstable that if I don’t respond to a couple of texts then it warrants a check to make sure I haven’t hurt myself or some shit!?”

There was a moment of silence between them.

Pete wanted to be frank and tell him that yes, that was the case, and in fact it was miracle that he’d held himself back from coming over for this long. But instead, he took a deep breath and tried to explain it as best he could without being offending at all.

“You haven’t missed a single band practice since we started playing together, Patrick.” He explained nervously. “Ever. You’re always there. Even that one time you had influenza type A and influenza type B at the same time, you still showed up to band practice with a box of meds and some throat lozenges to try and participate.” Pete smiled slightly at the memory, admiring his dedication only a few months prior. “So obviously for you to miss band practice then you’d probably be dead or some shit. The text messages were just like, on top of that.”

“What if I just didn’t want to go?” Patrick didn’t mean to sound as harsh as he was coming across, but he didn’t really know how else to say these things.

“Then you’d call?”

“What if my phone was dead?”

“If you know about all the text messages, then it’s clear that your phone wasn’t dead.”

Patrick was silent. 

“Please, just open the door.”

“It’s not pretty in here, Pete.” Patrick’s voice cracked at the end of the sentence, and Pete’s heart shattered. But that was progress. That was Patrick admitting he was having a bit of trouble. That was Patrick reaching out.

“Hey, that’s okay, you know I don’t mind that stuff. What about…” He thought for a second. “Do you wanna shower and get dressed and grab some clothes, and I’ll take you out for dinner? We’ll just go grab a burger or something, but after we can go back to mine and, well, yeah.”

“I d-don’t wanna go out…”

“That’s okay, that’s okay. How about you just grab some clothes and we’ll drive through somewhere on the way home and have that for dinner instead?”

“Okay…”

“Okay, awesome.” Pete grinned. “I’ll just wait out here until you’re ready to go.”

“No, no…” The door opened slowly with a prolonged squeak, and Pete was met by the sight of his best friend, well, not really in the best way. Patrick didn’t make eye contact, just mumbled something about it being January and cold, and gestured for Pete to walk inside. 

“Shit, Patrick.” Pete murmured under his breath, looking around the room.

Patrick was silent, and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, as if to just acknowledge what Pete had said. While his friend was still looking around at his mess, Patrick just mumbled something along the lines of ‘going to shower’ and quickly left the room.

The hot water felt good, and it felt really good to be out of those clothes. But standing there by himself in the shower, Patrick just felt guilty. He was so, so grateful to Pete for the help, but honestly, Pete had his own life to live. He shouldn’t have to be hanging around all the time to clean up Patrick’s mess, quite literally. It was when Patrick heard the vacuum cleaner start that he turned the water off and pulled on some sweatpants to run out and tell Pete to stop.

He was nearly done by then, and Pete was actually quite happy with the way he’d gotten Patrick’s apartment to loo. He’d cleaned all the dirty dishes and vacuumed the floors and everything with so pretty and neat now. Well, a hell of a lot prettier and neater than it had looked before.

Patrick essentially came running out and snatched the vacuum away. “Pete!”

“Oh, hey.” He smiled. “Feeling better?”

“No!” Patrick huffed in frustration, throwing his dodgy vacuum cleaner on the floor, making the dust compartment pop open and everything Pete cleaned up erupt into a huge dust cloud in the living room. “I don’t want you cleaning my house!”

Pete was a bit taken aback by the whole dust-cloud thing to listen to Patrick at first, and waved his hands around to try and stop it from going into his nose and mouth. Patrick was just too angry to bother with that, and just stormed off to finish getting changed.

Pete closed the vacuum cleaner compartment, but decided against making things worse by vacuuming again. He nervously leaned on the doorframe of Patrick’s bedroom and sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, I’m just trying to help.”

“I know, I know.” Patrick mumbled from his closet. “I’m just being an asshole.”

“You’re not an asshole, I overstepped my boundaries. C’mon, grab a spare set of clothes and we’ll head off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure? Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

Patrick just sighed, and opened the closet door with a bagful of clothes tucked under his arm. “We’re not going anywhere, right? So sweatpants are fine?”

“Sweatpants are ideal.” Pete smiled warmly. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Pete drove them both home, driving through a burger place and ordering probably enough for 4 people. They sat in Pete’s lounge room and ate it, while Pete put on some action movie that neither of them paid attention to. Patrick was just silently glad that he was sober for the first time in 4 days when Pete had showed up.

“You want a soda?” Pete asked through a mouthful of fries.

“I’m right, thanks.” He murmured, resting his head back on the couch behind him. “I’ll just have some water, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, course.” Pete popped up and walked to the kitchen. Patrick started to feel himself get kind-of woozy with his head back, and if he looked in exactly the right angle, there were some weird little shapes that popped up in his vision.

When Pete came back with a glass of water, Patrick had passed out on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is a reference to something Pete Wentz said at the Brisbane, Australia concert on the 28th of Feb 2018 (of which I was in attendance). When he was opening up to hold me tight or don't, he talked about how for this generation, the song could be summed up in when you're texting someone and you pour your heart and soul out through a text, and then the three little dots come up to say they're typing, and then they go away, and it's like 'hold me tight or fucking don't'. But yeah, that's my story behind the title.


	7. the new face of failure

When Patrick woke up, he didn’t realise where he was at first. Perhaps he was dead, he thought, when faced with the bright light as he opened his eyes. But as the room became less saturated and he started to recognise the machines beside him and the bed he was lying on, he realised he was in the hospital.

It was a private room, he soon realised, and he was alone. There wasn’t a whole lot around him either, just an empty room with a bed, which he was lying on. When a nurse finally opened the door, Patrick was already eager to leave. He held his arm out and gestured to the drip. “Can you take that out?”

“Not yet, honey.” She gently rested his arm back beside him on the bed. “You’re just a bit dehydrated.”

“Dehydrated? Did I seriously get admitted to the hospital for dehydration?” Patrick asked. Well, that wasn’t the worst thing that he could have been admitted for, but it sounded stupid when it was phrased like that.

“No, you were admitted to the hospital because you passed out from dehydration.” The nurse explained to him, taking note of his vitals. “You were very lucky your friend brought you in when he did.”

Pete.

“Where’s Pete? Can I see him?” Patrick tried to force himself to sit up. “I need to see him.”

“He went to get some food and make a couple of calls.” She explained to him. “So you just rest up, and he’ll be back soon.”

“Can I call him? I want him here now.” Patrick looked around for his phone.

“He’ll be back soon, honey. Just try and get some rest.” She put the clipboard back on the edge of the bed and left the room.

Outside the room, Pete was on the phone. On the phone with the label, telling them Patrick was in the hospital and band practice was being postponed a couple of days. On the phone with Joe and Andy, trying to explain the situation, and finally, to Patrick’s Mom, because sometimes she was the only person in the world who could talk some actual sense into him.

The doctors had told him that a diet of essentially alcohol with a side of peanut butter sandwich was all Patrick had been having for the past few days, and therefore was extremely dehydrated. Pete felt bad, of course. He wanted to be there, and to keep checking in, but Joe and Andy talked him out of it, saying that maybe Patrick might just need a bit of space.

He shouldn’t have listened to them. They didn’t care as much as he did. They didn’t know Patrick’s situation as well as he did. Now it was just him to blame.

Pete didn’t want to sit in that room while Patrick was unconscious. He wanted to be here, he wanted to be supportive, but he didn’t want to look at Patrick’s pale face and constantly be reminded of his failures. So out here in the café he sat, sipping away at coffee after coffee until his phone would die and he’d have to go up to get the phone charger he’d left in Patrick’s hospital room.

Sure enough, when that moment came, he sighed and paid his tab before heading up. Patrick was picking at his fingernails silently when Pete walked in, who was so relieved to see he was awake. He did his best to refrain though, and opened the conversation with a “How’ya feeling, buddy?”

Patrick glanced up at the door. “Like an idiot, you?”

“You’re not an idiot.” Pete walked over and plugged his phone in before sitting down beside his friend. “Just thirsty.”

“Dehydration is stupid excuse for this.” He gestured to the hospital room surrounding them. “You could’a just given me some water.”

“You collapsed, ‘Trick.” Pete sighed.

Patrick just sighed and looked down at his fingers, not interested in pursuing this discussion further. It seemed all he had been doing these past couple of weeks was making Pete run around after him to fix his mistakes.

“I’m sorry, Pete.”

“Hey, don’t worry, it’s all good.” Pete assured. “You just gotta lay off the alcohol a little and you’ll be fine. This is just a bit of a setback.”

“So what, I’m just a borderline alcoholic now?” Patrick mumbled.

“No! No, of course not. We’re gonna fix this, okay? It doesn’t have to involve the other guys if you don’t want it to, but we can work on this.”

“Do the other guys know I’m here right now?”

Pete nodded uncertainly, and Patrick muttered a string of profanity under his breath. It was dumb, but if there was one thing that he cared about right now, it was his reputation to his band mates that he had truly come to love as family. From the very first show that he ruined, he knew he was failing them. He wanted to come back from this, he wanted to prove to his family that he was capable of the job that they’d honored him with.

But no, now he was just sitting in a hospital bed because he’d drunk too much alcohol after ruining all their dreams. Pete was glancing at his phone now, checking to see how much it had charged, before taking a nervous deep breath.

“Hey, I’m gonna ask you a big question, and I don’t need an answer right now, but yeah, it’s a big ask…”

Patrick glanced over. “Like how big?”

“Reasonably big.”

“Okay…?”

Pete took another deep breath. “How would you feel about coming to live with me? Not forever, not even long-term, just, for a little while until you find your feet.”

“Oh.” Was the only response Pete got.

Thankfully the silence didn’t hang around long, there was a knock at the door and Andy and Joe entered with a sad-looking bunch of supermarket flowers. “Hey, ‘Trick, how are you feeling?”

Patrick smiled slightly, genuinely glad to see his friends, but did his best to pretend the conversation he’d been having with Pete a few moments ago didn’t exist. “Good, yeah, feeling much more hydrated now.”

Andy laughed, and Joe patted his shoulder a couple of times. “I’m glad, that’s awesome. The doctor we spoke to said you should be right to go in a couple of hours.”

“Awesome.” Pete smiled. “It’s been a long night.”

“You know this guy hasn’t slept all night?” Joe explained to Patrick, gesturing to Pete. “He’s been up, making sure that you’re okay, talking to the doctors from the moment you arrived.” He paused a moment, smiling at Pete. “He even carried you in here.”

“Really?” Patrick asked, glancing back.

Pete forced a smile, despite trying to repress the memory. It had been a frantic night, and despite the fact that Patrick was conscious and awake and even smiling, it didn’t change what Pete had dealt with only a few hours prior.

“Well, it was faster to drive than to call an ambulance, and yeah…” He mumbled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

It was that moment that Patrick realised exactly how much his friend was willing to put in for him. Patrick reached over and grabbed Pete’s hand, something that took him by surprise. Pete glanced up into his friend’s eyes, meeting Patrick’s smile. “Thank you, Pete.”

“It’s no problem, ‘Trick, I’m just glad you’re okay.”


	8. I'm the lonelier version of you, I just don't know where it went wrong

It wasn’t even a question if Patrick was going to stay with Pete after his hospitalization stay. Despite Pete bringing it up, and sort-of wanting an answer, the fact that when they got to Patrick’s place and all Patrick did was pack a quick bag and head out to the car seemed to answer that without any words.

The truth was, Patrick didn’t trust himself to be alone at this point. Despite the fact that he didn’t want to be a burden on his friend, he knew for a fact that he couldn’t promise Pete, or anyone else for that matter, that if they dropped him home then he wouldn’t find himself back in the liquor cupboard that night. It wasn’t something he was especially proud of, but the fact that Pete suggested this in the first place gave him a good reason to get out of that stupid apartment.

“That’s all you need to bring?” Pete asked, getting back in the driver’s seat.

“Well, I mean, my place isn’t a far drive, and I can always just come back if I need something.” Patrick responded, trailing off into uncertainty.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

The drive home was mostly silent, with Patrick occasionally taking a few sips of water from the water bottle the doctor had given him. He was better now, but he wasn’t taking any chances. There was no way in hell that Patrick was going to be admitted to hospital again based on something as stupid as dehydration.

“So, we never really talked about your session with Dr Histon.” Pete brought up quite randomly, and Patrick immediately tensed up. “I mean, you went and stuff but like, what did you talk about? Did it help?”

“Help with what?”

“I don’t know Patrick, whatever you talked about.”

Patrick was silent for a moment, thinking back to the session and the topics of conversation. “Well, I think the label or Bob or someone really must’ve gone and talked to them beforehand because she was really pushing chatting about the whole being on stage thing.” He admitted uncomfortably.

“Did it help? Did you like… I don’t know, make progress?”

Pete had been to many a therapist in his life, much thanks to his bipolar disorder, but he knew for a fact that Patrick had never experienced anything like this in his life, and therefore wouldn’t really understand the system or how it worked. He wasn’t surprised when Patrick just shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s all good, just as long as you’re comfortable talking to her, yeah? You know I’ve gone through all this shit and I get it, so don’t like, feel that nobody gets it because I do and if you need to chat about it then, yeah.”

“Thanks.” Patrick murmured quietly.

The conversation ended there, and the two sat in mostly silence on the way back to the house. Pete carried Patrick’s bag inside and placed it on the spare bed on top of the new bed linen he’d purchased only a few days prior. 1000 thread count sheets were quite pricey, but only the best for Pete’s best friend.

“I’m not being too intruding, am I?” Patrick asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“What? No, of course not. I’m the one who even suggested it in the first place.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Pete stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Do you want a sandwich or something? I got jam and peanut butter and regular butter and all sorts of spreads.”

“Peanut butter would be great, thanks.” Patrick got up. “Let me help you.”

Pete didn’t argue. He handed Patrick the bread and the peanut butter and let him make the lunch while Pete cleaned up some dishes that were sitting in the sink.

“Do Andy and Joe know I’m staying here?”

“Not at the moment, but I’m sure they’ll find out sooner or later.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“But don’t stress about it, they’re decent guys, they’ll understand.”

Patrick was silent, and the conversation ended there while he cut the sandwiches into triangles and the two sat down to eat. Pete sensed the awkward tension and attempted to make conversation.

“So, I was thinking maybe tonight we could rent a couple of movies and have a quiet night in?”

“Yeah, cool, whatever you wanna do is fine with me.”

“Any picks?”

“Your house, Pete.”

“Our movie night, Patrick.”

Patrick just shrugged. “Look, I’ll probably just fall asleep anyway, so just watch want you want.”

Pete wasn’t happy with that. After 10 minutes and a ride in the car, the two found themselves in Pete’s local Blockbuster. Patrick just stared blankly at the new releases wall, while Pete would occasionally pick one up and read the back, and with no response from Patrick, would put it back.

“We’re gonna be here for hours if you don’t pick something.” Pete joked, picking up another DVD case.

Patrick sighed, and picked up one of the ones that Pete had read the blurbs of, and handed it over. “Here. This is my pick. Let’s go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure.” He answered flatly, clearly unamused and not wanting to be in this store and longer.

Pete grabbed quite a few more and headed to the checkout, and then dragged them both to the corner store to choose some snacks. Patrick knew for a fact that he really wasn’t interested in any sort of candy or anything, but he also knew for a fact that Pete wasn’t going to let him out until he picked something. So he grabbed the first chocolate bar he saw on the shelf and handed it to his friend, before moving outside the store to wait in the car.

Patrick really did appreciate everything his friend was doing, but for the love of god, he didn’t want to be outside the house right now. He was so, so tired, and had just gotten out of hospital. He wanted to curl up on those remarkably soft sheets he hadn’t noticed in Pete’s house before, and just sleep for the next eternity or two.

“Got them!” Pete grinned, holding his gigantic shopping bag full of candy up high like a small child would. It was a little bit stupid, both of them had to admit, but Pete was having too much fun to care. They had a pile of action movies and a bag of candy – tonight was going to be amazing.

He carried that belief into the car, Pete talked all about all the movies they’d gotten and the stars that were in it and the reviews that said they were amazing movies and how great it was going to be considering they hadn’t had a good movie night in ages. He was so caught up in his own conversation that he didn’t realise that Patrick had dozed off into a light slumber in the passenger seat.

In fact, he only really noticed when he got inside and realised that his friend hadn’t actually even got out of the car yet.

Patrick was having quite a good sleep when he was shaken awake on the arm. He groaned and tried to swat this unwanted intruder away, but Pete was pretty stubborn, and reluctantly Patrick groaned and opened his eyes. “I was sleeping, Pete!”

“Yeah, in my car. C’mon, you can sleep in bed.” Pete sighed.

It was only then that Patrick realised where he was. “Oh, sorry.”

“C’mon.” Pete extended a hand and helped him up. Patrick wandered inside and kicked his shoes off before curling up in bed and quickly going back to sleep.

Pete ate the entire bag of candy and watched those movies on his own.


	9. i want to hate you half as much as i hate myself

Patrick hadn’t yet made up his mind about the appointments that the label was sending him to with the psych. Sure, it sounded terrible in theory, and he hated that everyone around him seemed to know he was there, but in reality, when that door was closed and it was just Patrick and the psych lady, it actually wasn’t that bad.

That might’ve been because Patrick finally had a chance to talk about things without being judged. He had a lot of things he’d been bottling up for a very long time which he did try to bring up a couple of times, but again his psych would always bring it back to him passing out on stage, which was stupid, but that’s what the label was paying her to fix about him so he didn’t really mind.

What he did mind though, was Pete’s nosiness. Pete was always there, always asking questions about what exactly they talked about and then about whether Patrick thought he was getting better.

How was Patrick even supposed to know that? He couldn’t exactly test whether he was still passing out on stage without getting up and attempting to play a song in front of a couple of hundred people, and that wasn’t exactly an option. He just tried to brush him off every time, but it was getting a bit annoying.

He loved his friend, he really did, and he really appreciated everything that Pete was doing for him, but sometimes Pete didn’t know where to draw the privacy boundary, and that really aggravated Patrick. He just wanted to work these things through by himself, and prove (mostly to himself) that he wasn’t as useless as he seemed and was actually able to do things when he worked through them right.

Sure enough, Pete was waiting out in the lobby when he finished his 4th session, and Patrick did his best to quickly drag him out of the place and back to the car. Pete liked to hang around and make conversation, which just happened to be Patrick’s least favourite pastime. All Patrick wanted to do now was go home, wash these stupid red tear marks off his face (that session had been quite dramatic) and go back to bed and hopefully get a nap in before band practice.

But, as always, Pete had other ideas.

“Lunch?” he asked, pulling into a mall. “I figured we could drop by the food court and then maybe like, I dunno, do some shopping or something.”

Patrick sighed. He didn’t argue. There was no point to argue. Pete was just trying to be nice, and arguing would only make him feel bad, which would make Patrick feel bad, and it would just be a downward spiral. So he dragged his feet out of the car, and pretended to be fine with it, despite the fact that he was really poorly dressed (Patrick didn’t wear sweatpants out, full stop), and despite the fact that Pete had promised him that they’d go straight back home after the stupid session.

The mall was big, and the food court was right in the middle. Patrick considered running into a department store and finding a decent pair of pants to wear, so he looked like he had at least half of his life together, but from the way Pete was charging straight ahead, it was clear he was hungry, so Patrick just trailed behind and kept his mouth shut.  
It was stupid; Patrick thought. He was an adult, he could make his own decision, he was able to do whatever the hell he wanted to do, and yet since the moment that Pete found him in the basement drunk, he’d been avoiding making choices with everything he had. He’d (metaphorically) handed over the keys to his life to Pete, and let him take the driver’s seat. Quite literally. Patrick hadn’t driven a car in over a month now.

God, that was a weird thought. And there was nothing inside him that wanted him to take control of a car any time in the near future either.

It was so stupid. Patrick was being so stupid, and he knew that. He shouldn’t be letting Pete make every decision in his life, he should be standing up for himself and letting his voices and opinions be spoken and heard so he was a valuable contribution to his own life.

Yet he didn’t. There was something in him that just didn’t want the responsibility right now. He didn’t deserve the responsibility right now. He didn’t deserve it until he started doing some things right, which at the moment, he wasn’t doing a whole lot of.

He hadn’t told Pete about his midnight runs to the beer fridge. Pete didn’t even realise beers were missing, Patrick had always taken the bottles from the back and then put the empty bottles in the neighbour’s trash can so Pete wouldn’t notice. He didn’t want to, he didn’t want to do this to himself, or to Pete, but he didn’t know what else to do when the craving came at 2am.

“OH MY GOD IT’S FALL OUT BOY!”

Patrick snapped out of his thoughts, and looked at Pete, who was wearing a big smile on his face and was looking at a girl. She was like, 14, or something and wearing a Green Day shirt, and her face was wearing a smile so big it could hardly fit on it.

“Hi.” Pete smiled. “Nice to see you!”

She ran over to him and shook his hand, “I’m Eloise!”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Pete, and this is Patrick.” Pete laughed, gesturing to Patrick who was not prepared for an encounter of this kind today.

Eloise bounded over excitedly and shook Patrick’s hand as well, before her smile faltered slightly, and she went in for an unsuspecting hug. Patrick froze up, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“I was at the show, ‘ya know. The one where you, um, passed out.” 

There was a moment of silence.

“I-I’m sorry?” Patrick whispered, uncertain as to how he was supposed to respond.

“It’s okay. Are you feeling better now? Everyone on the online forums says you got really sick. You’re still kinda pale, actually.”

Patrick didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. There was a bit of awkward silence between the three, until Pete piped up. “He’s doing a bit better now, but we’re just waiting until he’s all better before we do another show so he doesn’t damage his vocal chords.”

“Awww!” She hugged him again, and Patrick’s levels of discomfort grew. He loved that she cared, but he didn’t feel right about lying. But then again, he wasn’t exactly inclined to tell the truth, either.

“Can we get a photo?” She asked, handing a camera from her bag to her friend (who had been watching the whole ordeal, but hadn’t really said anything).

“I can take it?” Patrick tried to offer. He wasn’t looking his best right now. He was still red and puffy from the session, he had bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, and was pale, as Eloise described. Plus, he was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt which was anything but flattering.

Eloise had already put her arms around the two of them. Pete was smiling, lapping up the attention, and Patrick did his best to look like he was happy, but it was hard when he knew that this horrible, gross, untrustworthy and worthless version of himself was forever captured in a photo.

“Thanks guys! I really love the music and I can’t wait for the next show!” She giggled excitedly. “Thank you!”

“Thanks for the support, Eloise. We’ll see you around.” Pete smiled charmingly.

When she was finally gone and they were walking in the other direction, Patrick sighed heavily. “I don’t, I don’t want to come out anymore. I don’t want that to happen again.”  
“She was so happy to see us! Isn’t that cool? We probably made her day!”

“Yeah, but while I look and feel like absolute shit, Pete!” Patrick snapped. “We had to lie to her! Because I’m just so ‘sick’ that I might damage my vocal chords! Because apparently living a life of lies is better than letting the world know that the lead singer of Fall Out Boy is a fucking loser who can’t perform because of stupid stage fright and is so damn ashamed of himself and that fact that he’s become an alcoholic who can’t sleep at night!”

“But you’re not an alcoholic, ‘Trick.” Pete gently put a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. “And it’s all gonna get better, okay? Look, she didn’t think anything of it, nobody knows anything, and everyone who knows you knows that you’re an amazing singer and you’re gonna be great. So just, take a deep breath, let’s get some food, and then we’ll go home, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He responded quietly, his anger wearing off and now he was just feeling like an asshole again for shouting at someone who was just looking out for him. “Yeah, that’s alright, let’s just, be quick.”

“Course.” Pete answered.

They ate quickly, and went home after that. Patrick just curled up in bed, hoping to truly get that nap in before band practice, and to hopefully forget about the experience he’d just had at the mall.


	10. a loose bolt of a complete machine

Despite everything that had happened, Patrick was looking forward to band practice. It was a sense of normalcy, sitting in Pete’s basement and belting out a couple of lyrics with his best friends. Besides, they were starting to work on some pretty cool new songs as well, and it was almost at the stage where they could get into a studio and really get some of it produced.

“You seem happy today.” Pete noted as Patrick flipped some pancakes for their breakfast.

Patrick just gave him a small smile. “Well, it’s band practice day, and I haven’t seen the guys for like 2 weeks, and yeah, I’m in the zone for writing and stuff and I think’ll be pretty good.”

“That’s awesome.” Pete smiled in reply, getting the maple syrup from the cupboard. 

He nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I’m feeling really good about finally playing again. I haven’t really had a good practice, since like, that one.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“No, it’s not your fault.” Patrick felt the dismay returning, and quickly tried to shake it off. This practice was going to show the guys he still had it, he was still going to be an amazing singer and he could still do stuff. He didn’t need to be thinking about the past couple of shows or the practices he missed because he was too drunk.

This one was gonna be the best damn Fall Out Boy practice session the band had ever had.

But first, pancakes, and Patrick finished flipping them before presenting them on two plates with a drizzle of maple syrup and a small square of butter. He didn’t normally make pancakes, but damn, these looked really good. Hopefully a sign of a good band practice to come.

“So,” Pete started with a mouthful of food. “What are you gonna tell the guys about where you’re staying?”

Patrick went quiet. “Um….”

“Well, I mean, I’m cool with either way, and I’ll back you up, but you gotta let me know what you’re gonna say so we don’t contradict.”

“What do you think I should say?” Patrick asked, his cheeks flushing pink in embarrassment.

“I can’t tell you that, that’s your choice. But look, they’re understanding guys, they won’t judge you or anything. If you wanna tell them, they’ll understand. If you don’t, then, I don’t know, it might give you privacy or something but look, it’s your choice.”

“What if it just doesn’t come up in conversation?”

“Well, that’s an option too, but we probably need a plan in case it does.”

“Look,” Patrick ran a hand through his hair stressfully. “I-If it comes up, then just, yeah we can tell them, but just don’t say anything about the alcohol or my place or anything like that. Just say like, I was, like, lonely?” He winced at the end of his statement. “And just like, this was more for like emotional support or some shit like that.”

“Fair enough, sounds good.” Pete nodded. “Anyway, these pancakes are really good.”

The pancakes didn’t taste quite as sweet as before after that conversation, but Patrick did try to pretend that they did. He quickly finished the dishes before showing and putting on some really nice clothes for band practice. Well, it was jeans and a t-shirt with a jacket and a hat, but compared to his now-regular uniform of sweatpants and a hoodie, it was a significant upgrade.

There was always something about a good outfit that gave Patrick confidence. He shaved and washed his hair and even cleaned his glasses with the proper spray stuff. He didn’t think it very often, but damn, Patrick looked acceptable today.

Pete seemed to notice, when Patrick came down to the basement to check how Pete was going with his warmup, he could have sworn that Pete’s eyes widened a little and there was that little spark in there that gave him this confidence boost that he didn’t experience very often.

Pete didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to tell his friend the truth, that he looked absolutely amazing, because that would probably be a little bit weird, and there was the chance that Patrick could take that the wrong way, especially since he hadn’t really been putting a lot of effort into his appearance recently. Part of Pete wanted to tell Patrick he looked absolutely amazing every day, but the fact was that it wasn’t feasible to come out and make a whole thing when he wasn’t the one who needed the attention right now.  
He just shook the thoughts from his mind and smiled at his friend, who was walking down the stairs to the basement. “Hey, ‘Trick. Everything seems to be in order down here.”

“Awesome.” Patrick walked over to the hanging guitar rack and pulled his down, before walking over to the amp in the other corner and plugging it in. He hadn’t played in a month, yet when his finger found the pick and his other hand found the fretboard, it was like he had never left in the first place.

Patrick didn’t find himself getting attached to a whole lot of inanimate objects, but his guitar was certainly one of them. And as he pulled the strap over his shoulders and began to play, he felt right at home, once again. There’s a certain sense of homeliness that you can only find from music. It might be because you can portray the feelings you can’t explain with words, or maybe because when everything in your world appears to be going wrong, music is always something you can do right. For Patrick, in that moment, it was a piece of both of those reasons and he never wanted to leave the feeling he got in that moment.

That was probably why he was so relieved when Andy and Joe came down the stairs he had come down only a few minutes earlier. He was able to share that feeling with them in a really, really, damn good session. It started with some practice of some of the songs that they’d finished and were happy with, before moving on to examining some of the new lyrics that Pete had written. Patrick worked with them and created a melody and Andy worked on a beat and damn, this was productive.

After playing a runthrough of ‘Pretty in Punk’ with the new changes, Patrick grinned at his friend and rested his guitar on the stand for a moment while he ducked over to the fridge to grab some drinks for the sweaty band members who had been doing hard at it for a fair few hours. “Who wants a beer?”

Pete immediately glanced at Patrick with a hesitant look that read 'are you sure that’s the best idea, right now?'

Patrick glared back with another one that read 'I’m fine and all of you are here and I want a beer so I’m going to have one to reward myself for this damn good band practice and I’m not letting your judgemental looks, stop me'.

Then Pete looked away and all Patrick could read from that was 'I’m sorry I was trying to look after you but I just want to make sure you’re safe and happy.'

That just made him feel bad. He grabbed the three beers from the fridge, and frowned a little bit. The fridge had been completely stocked, full to the brim, when he’d moved in temporarily. Now there were three left.

He popped all the lids off and distributed them. One to Pete, one to Andy, and one to Joe, before grabbing a glass of water and consuming it in one long gulp.

“Not having one?” Joe asked, who had been kept in the dark about the situation descending around his friend.

“None left.” Patrick mumbled.

“What?” Pete asked. “No, no, I stocked the fridge with 2 cartons a couple of weeks ago. There should be plenty.” He leapt over the counter of the bar and stared at the empty shelves of the fridge, while Patrick felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead. “Hmmm…”

“C-Can we talk about this later?” Patrick whispered, just loud enough for Pete to hear but not loud enough for the rest of them to listen in to. “Please don’t make a fuss of this right now. We’re doing well.” He paused a moment, squeezing his fingers. “Please don’t be mad. I-I’ll pay for it, I promise.”

Pete did as his friend asked. He mumbled something along the lines of ‘must’ve forgot about taking them to that party’ and went back to practice. Patrick tried to play along as normal for the rest of it, but could only really focus on the guilt sitting heavy in his stomach.


	11. it's never getting any better than this

When band practice was all said and done, and Andy and Joe had left the basement and all that was left was Pete and Patrick in a room full of instruments, Pete walked over to the empty fridge and frowned.

“I’m assuming you know where all the beer went?” He glanced up at Patrick, trying not to be accusational and failing miserably.

Patrick’s shoulders slumped and he sighed. “I-I’m sorry, Pete, I’ll pay for it, and I won’t do it again, I promise.”

“It’s not about the money, Patrick, we both know that.” The taller man ran a hand through his hair and let out a long sigh. 

The cold sweat returned, and Patrick dragged himself over to the fridge to stare at the empty shelves. 2 cartons, was it, that Pete had said? That particular beer came in cartons of 48. So that meant that over, what was it, about 3 weeks now, Patrick had drunk 93 bottles of beer. And that meant that it was averaging 31 or so bottles a week, or more depressingly, Patrick had drunk an average of just over 4 beers a night when he was meant to be having zero.

Pete, who had seemed to also have worked out the math, sighed as well. “Shit, Patrick…”

Despite there probably being a better way to deal with his emotions in that point in time, Patrick just started crying. It wasn’t really because he was sad that he drank the beer. He didn’t really care about that. In that moment, it was what he felt he needed to get himself to sleep. Alcohol scared the demons away for the night. He couldn’t imagine where he’d be right now if he hadn’t had those drinks. He probably wouldn’t have slept for the enire 3 weeks he’d stayed at Pete’s place. Moreso Patrick cried because he knew he was a disappointment to his friend. He’d hurt the person who had opening his home and his heart to him and Patrick had pretty much gone and done the only thing that Pete had asked him not to.

He was a terrible singer, a terrible friend, and overall, a terrible person.

Pete stood there for a second, contemplating what to do, before giving in with a sigh and wrapping Patrick in a warm hug. “Hey, look, it’s all gonna be alright, yeah? I’m not mad, it’s all good.”

Patrick didn’t say anything, but did accept the hug and put his arms around Pete. That took Pete by surprise, but not a bad way. Despite the awkward situation, both of them enjoyed the warmth and security this impromptu hug offered them.

“Maybe this is good?” Pete offered after a couple of minutes. “It’s all gone now, there’s no temptations, nothing at all. It’ll be easier than ever now.”

Patrick sniffled and pulled away from the hug. “I c-can’t sleep without it, Pete.”

“What?”

“L-Like, I-I-I’d…” He trailed off, guilt sinking in again before he willed himself to keep going. This was stupid, and he knew how guilty he was, but he needed to be honest or Pete would never forgive him. “I-I’d have t-to wait until y-you were sleeping before c-coming down because if I d-didn’t, t-then, t-then, I just, I wouldn’t l-let myself sleep, y-y’know? L-like I couldn’t, I-I’d just-”

Patrick didn’t know how to explain ‘I’d just torture myself with my own thoughts of inadequacy for hours on end and keep myself awake’ without sounding like some kind of bumbling idiot. He just hoped Pete got the message.

“I know what it’s like to feel like that.” Pete gently put a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “I know it felt like the only way, but there’s others. If you’re ever stuck in a situation like that, just wake me up, okay? I won’t be annoyed, I won’t be angry or anything, I’m happy to sit up as long as you need. We can talk if you want, or just, watch TV together or something, I don’t know, but eventually the feelings pass and you can sleep.”

“I d-don’t want to rob you of your sleep, i-it’s bad enough one of us isn’t getting enough. W-Why do you think I nap all the time?” Patrick asked nervously. It was a kind offer, but he knew how bad he would feel waking anyone up.

“But the thing is, you won’t be robbing me of sleep. Because we’ll both end up with a few decent hours, and besides, a few hours of quality sleep where I know you’re sleeping is far better than no sleep because I’m up worrying about you.”

Patrick’s cheeks flushed pink as Pete mentioned this, and Pete smiled slightly. “So no more nightcaps, just, let me be your nightcap instead. And then we’ll both be able to get a good night’s sleep. Together.”

“Together.”

“Yeah, together.”

Patrick nodded and smiled slightly, before glancing back down at his toes and reaching for his wallet, before handing Pete a couple of bills. “T-That’s just for the beer.”

“I’m not taking the money, Patrick.”

Patrick just opened the fridge and put the money inside, before smiling mischievously and heading back upstairs. “It’s yours now, Pete.”

“Patrick!” Pete laughed, taking the light side of the situation. It was good to go back to that after that moment of seriousness. That was something the two both loved about their friendship. No matter how dark the times, no matter how serious, they could always brush it off and have a laugh, to just be buddies.

\---------------------

Pete wasn’t sure what time it was, but it was certainly the middle of the night when the door creaked open and another body slumped onto the bed beside him. The person grabbed the pillow and hugged it tightly, and Pete swore he heard him sob.

“Patrick?” He mumbled sleepily, rolling over to try and see his friend, but Patrick had rolled over as well and was looking in the other direction, seemingly very tense.

There was no response from Patrick, who was trying to follow his friend’s instructions without being intrusive. He just squeezed the pillow tight and tried not to think about the bad things that had been tormenting him back in the spare bedroom he’d been staying in. That led to the second sob he let out accidentally.

“Patrick? Are you okay?” Pete asked again, propping himself up on his arms as he grew more concerned.

Patrick didn’t really see a point in lying now, Pete knew he was crying. “N-No.”

“You wanna talk about it?” Pete offered.

“N-No.”

“Okay…” Pete switched his lamp on. “Water? TV? Can I do anything?”

“J-Just sleep, Pete.” Patrick whispered harshly, despite the tremor in his voice giving his teary state away clearly.

Pete was taken aback a little bit, but nodded. He laid down, flicked the lamp back off, and just listened in silence as his friend cried himself to sleep.


	12. i'll be your best kept secret and your biggest mistake

Pete’s decision to postpone a couple more shows was one that he did uncover, without really telling Patrick what he was doing or why he was doing it. He knew that telling his friend that he didn’t really think he was in a place to be performing wouldn’t go down very well, and working with their band manager to come up with a reasonable solution.

The album was going to be released soon, and it was going to be amazing. Only a couple more months until Fall Out Boy could proudly hold ‘Take This to Your Grave’ up to show. And so with the release a good distance away, the label had begrudgingly agreed to launch a tour – a nationwide tour – and transfer all the tickets for the shows before the release to tickets to the tour after the release. That way they didn’t have to refund anyone, just transfer, and with a bigger tour came the opportunity to sell even more tickets.

Sure, there were a couple of people who complained, but with a few blog posts about how it was for Patrick’s health and how it would be a better show if they waited till the album was out, Pete had the situation all under control. Well, mostly.

Yeah, the band and the shows and all that was sorted out, but Pete still felt like he was stumbling in the dark when it came to helping his friend. It was good that there was no more alcohol in the house now, but now it had become a nightly thing where Patrick would creep into Pete’s room in the middle of the night. He always refused to talk, and just wanted silence, which was weird, but understandable. Pete knew it was just about not being alone, but he still felt pushed out, and he still felt that if Patrick just let himself talk about what was going on inside his mind, he’d feel a tonne better and possible be getting at least an hour’s more worth of sleep a night.

But Pete couldn’t force him to talk. He couldn’t force him to do anything. He just had to be as open and supporting as he could be and hope that his friend would open up in his own time. It just had to be that his own time appeared to be six eternities. 

“One month today, Patrick!” Pete waltzed into the kitchen wearing a huge grin. “One month and then our album is gonna be out like, everywhere!”

Patrick glanced up from his morning coffee at his friend and rolled his eyes playfully. “Relax, Pete. There’s still a whole month to go.”

“I know, but I’m excited!” He laughed, bouncing around while making some toast for the two of them. “It’s gonna be amazing. And tour, oh my god, tour! You know we’re actually gonna get a proper tour bus this time?! No more vans or crap like that, we’re getting a legitimate tour bus!”

“Seriously?”

“Uh huh.” Pete responded excitedly. “It’s gonna have a TV and beds and a bathroom and it’s gonna be amazing.”

“Hmmm.” Patrick hummed softly, taking another sip of his beverage. “Wait, so what are the show dates?”

“So, the album is gonna come out on May 6, and we’re doing a celebratory show that night at Riviera, and then we have another show a week later here again, and then a week after that we leave on tour!” Pete was really, really damn excited at the prospect. All he did really was bounce around excitedly as he discussed all these amazing shows he was gonna play and all these amazing people he was going to see as he went around the country.

Patrick, on the other hand, sat there and stressed. He had one month to transform from this mess of a person to an amazing rockstar. Pete was already there, he was completely, 100% ready to tour at a moment’s notice and had no problems getting up on stand and was just, well, ready. Patrick knew that he was gonna have to shape up real fast for this tour. He wasn’t even sure if he was ready to get up on stage yet. He hadn’t done so since that stupid show in December. It was April now, and despite the weekly psych sessions and all this spending time at Pete’s house and all that, he felt very indifferent from that rock bottom spot that Pete had found him in.

Part of him wanted to get up and say that he needed more time, but he wasn’t going to do that to his friends. This was their dream. This was what they had worked so hard for. It wasn’t fair on them if he decided to pull out last minute for selfish reasons. He just had to suck it up, sing his heart out, and hopefully not focus on the crowds out in front of them…

“Hey, ‘Trick, buddy, you’re looking a little pale, are you feeling okay?” Pete asked as he presented his friend with a plate of toast.

Patrick suddenly wretched, and bolted out of his chair and to the kitchen sink, where the contents of his stomach found their way out of his body. Alarmed, Pete immediately ran   
over to his friend and offered a gently back pat of support, while Patrick just continued to throw up.

When he was done, Pete offered a napkin and a glass of water, and Patrick slumped back on his chair, thinking about the events that had just happened. That wasn’t even actually getting up in front of a crowd. That wasn’t actually doing anything at all. He’d literally pictured a crowd in his mind and physically thrown up because of nerves.

If it was just thinking about a show, what was it going to be like when Patrick actually got up there?

Pete had handed Patrick a box of aspirin and was already talking about some stomach bug that was going around, before going on to discussing the possibility of maybe seeing a doctor because it didn’t seem to be very nice. Patrick just hushed him and assured him that it was all fine, and he wasn’t sick, and it was just a one-off and he was thinking about something kind-of gross and that was what make him ill.

Pete didn’t pry any further, but had his suspicions about what Patrick was meaning. He just offered another glass of water, and casually mentioned he had another appointment with his psych tomorrow, before leaving the room to go get ready for the day.


	13. i could be an accident but i'm still trying

Halfway through this dreadful month in the leadup to the release of the album, Patrick started growing desperate. He’d started seeing this psych lady almost daily now, begging for more sessions so he’d be prepared for tour.

He didn’t feel prepared at all. He didn’t feel like he’d even improved a teeny tiny bit. He was just same old Patrick, the singer who couldn’t sing in front of crowds, and he was goddamn desperate to fix himself for the sake of his bandmates.

He knew they were genuine when they said they didn’t want to replace him. They’d been playing together for almost 2 years now, and they were practically family. He knew that he would never be able to forgive himself if he let them down. So here he was, sitting in a karaoke bar at 2 in the morning after calling a cab to take him out after Pete fell asleep.

The idea was that it was easy to sing in front of drunk people at a karaoke bar, and this would be the first building block to being able to sing on the tour. Half these people looked like they were about to pass out anyway, and Patrick felt his fingers twitching with anxiety as his name on the list rose closer to the top. And even though he knew it was bad, and even though he knew he shouldn’t be doing it, the only way to bring some relief was to walk up to the bar and order a drink.

Six later, he decided it was a good idea to call Pete and invite him down to watch the performance.

Pete Wentz wasn’t exactly sure who was calling him at 2:37am on a Tuesday morning, and wasn’t exactly please when the ringtone woke him from his slumber. He answered the call with an angry grunt, signifying his unhappiness with being woken up.

Patrick didn’t seem to notice, and started the conversation with a little giggle and a drunken hiccup. “Petey! Petey I’m gonna sing in liiiiiikeee, maybe likeeeeeee, 13 minutes aaaaand 36 seconds? Wait, 34 seconds!”

“Patrick?” Pete asked, starting to come to his senses. “What? Where are you? What are you doing?” There was a moment of silence. “Are you drunk?”

“I just got neeeeeeervous.” Patrick giggled, stumbling around the lounge with a beer in one hand and his phone in the other, occasionally sloshing some of the beverage on his sweater. “The crowd is gonna vote on the song and eeeeeverything! You should come waaaaaaaatch!”

By now, Pete had leapt out of bed and was pulling on the first pair of pants he could see. “Where are you, Patrick? I’m gonna come and get you, okay? What are you even doing out? You went to bed before I did.”

“Silly Petey! Silly, silly!” Patrick fell back onto one of the lounge chairs, still giggling, finding the situation absolutely hilarious for no reason in particular. “I just wanted you to think I was sleeping! I’m still asleep! ShHhhhHHHHH! Don’t wake me up Petey! I was tirreeeeeeeeeddddd!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Patrick.”

“Bad words! Bad words! What would your Mom think?” Patrick asked with an attempted stern voice, before erupting into another explosion of giggles.

Pete sighed, knowing that this approach wasn’t working to get a whole lot of information out of his drunk friend. “You said you wanted me to come and watch you sing? Where are you gonna sing tonight Patrick?”

“At the bar, silly!”

“The crowd was gonna vote, did you say?” Pete was hit with sudden realisation. “Are you at that karaoke bar on Smith street?”

Patrick burped loudly, before giggling again. “You know me too well Peteyyyyyyyyyy…”

“Mmmkay, I’m gonna come there now, okay? And then we’ll come home because it’s really late buddy. You shouldn’t be out, and you shouldn’t be drinking.” Pete sighed to himself again, pulling his shoes on and listening to Patrick’s breathing through their phone call. He doubted Patrick had even realised that he hadn’t hung up yet.

The bar was only 10 minutes away, and Pete walked in to Patrick standing over in the corner and attempting to dance, which clearly wasn’t going very well, and resembled more of a drunk man stumbling about loosely to the beat of a badly performed Green Day cover coming from the stage.

“PETE! Guess whatttt?!” Patrick’s face lit up when he saw his concerned friend make his way over. “I’mmmmmm gonna singggg for all these peeeeeeeople and it’s gonnnnna be amaaaaazzzziiiinggggg!”

Pete gently put a hand on his friend’s shoulder to stop Patrick from swaying over, and took the beer out of his hand before he spilled it. “Wouldn’t it be more fun to go home, yeah? You can sing as much as you want at home and it’ll be better because you can choose whatever you wanna sing.”

“But I neeeeeeeeeed to praaaactice Petey! So I don’t ruiiiiin the tourrrrrrrr!” Patrick slurred, grabbing onto a nearby chair for support. “And theyyyyyy’re gonna let me sing a cooooool song!”

Ít was then that Patrick was introduced over the loudspeaker. Pete panicked and grabbed his arm to try and prevent this ongoing disaster, but Patrick just pulled him to the stage as well, grabbed a microphone, and giggled. “This is Petey, and heeeeee’sssss fuckin’ greeeat, ya know? Fuckingggggg brilliant.” Patrick held the microphone against Pete’s lips and gestured for him to say something.

“Patrick, buddy, let’s go home, this isn’t a good idea…” Pete tried to whisper, moving backwards to get the microphone away from him. He just needed to get Patrick out of this damn bar as quickly as possible.

The intro music started, and Patrick took the microphone back. He came in a few seconds early, but Pete immediately recognised the song.

“The sun shiiiiiines upon the hourrrrrrrrrr, and the sun begins to faaadeeeeeeeeeeeee…”

Quite a few people in the crowd seemed actually impressed by his vocals, and started to pay actual attention. Patrick was singing with his eyes closed for most of the first verse and didn’t really notice, but as soon as he got to the chorus and glanced out at the group of maybe 20 or so spectators nodding their heads to the beat, he felt a twinge in his stomach, and stumbled over in alarm. Partly because he was incredibly, incredibly drunk, and partly because these people were staring straight at him. Looking straight into his damn soul and reading him like a book and they probably already realised what a stupid singer he was and oh boy, Patrick did not know how to cope with that.

Pete swooped down, like Patrick’s knight in shining armour, and quickly swept him off the stage and slammed a few bills down on the bar to cover his friend’s tab, before taking him straight out the car. Patrick did fall over, many, many times, but eventually Pete managed to get him in the passenger seat with a plastic bag in his hands for just in case.

And it was a good thing that Pete thought ahead. The only sound he could hear on the drive back was the sound of his best friend in the world throwing up into a plastic bag he kept for emergencies in the glove box.

“Jesus, Patrick.” Pete said quietly as he pulled up into his driveway, before running around to the other side of the car to help his friend out. Patrick still wasn’t standing up right, but he wasn’t throwing up anymore, so that was a plus. He just groaned and dragged his feet as Pete led him to bed, and complained when Pete tried to get him to drink some   
water.

“C’mon, you know what happened last time you got dehydrated.” Pete sighed, holding the bottle out. “Please, for me?”

Patrick just pulled the blankets over his face, before pushing them back down and giggling. “I’m not tireddddd Petey!”

“Yes, you are, and you’re very drunk and I need to make sure you go to bed or I’m not gonna be able to live with myself, so just, drink the water and go to sleep.”

Patrick begrudgingly took a few sips of water and glanced around. “Why am I in yourrrrroooooom?”

“Because this bed is more comfortable and I’m a little worried about you, and I think it’ll be better for the both of us if you just stay here tonight, okay?”

“Awwww, Peteyyyyyyyyyy!” Patrick threw his arms around his friend in a unexpected hug, and even though Pete was slightly uncomfortable at the awkward angle, he hugged back and made Patrick promise to just go to sleep.

“But only if you stayyyyyyyy!”

“I’ll be just outside, ‘Trick. Don’t worry.”

“No, hereeeeeee!” He patted the bed beside him. “You can be like a teddy beaaaar!”

Pete sighed, knowing arguing with drunk Patrick was like arguing with a toddler, and he wasn’t going to win this fight. So he kicked his shoes off and curled up on the other side of his bed, and waited until he was 110% sure that Patrick was sleeping soundly before heading back to his spot on the couch.


	14. i only want what i can't have

Patrick wasn’t proud of his actions at the karaoke bar, and the third thing he did after getting up the next morning was apologise profusely to Pete (his first action was to throw up and secondly to take a couple of aspirin with some water to try and get rid of the pounding headache). He wasn’t really sure what exactly he was apologizing for, something along the lines of his behaviour, making Pete get out of bed in the middle of the night to come and get him or maybe for throwing up a little on his bed sheets. He had attempted to rectify the situation by cleaning the sheets, but it still wasn’t enough to make up for his terrible actions the night before.

To be honest, he didn’t remember a whole lot. He remembered going out, getting nervous and shaky, and then the first couple of drinks. Then it was a bit of a blank until he was up on stage singing ‘I wanna dance with somebody’, and then everyone staring, then more blanks until he was at home in Pete’s bed. But just because he didn’t know every single little thing that happened didn’t mean that he didn’t know he was a complete idiot and shouldn’t have gone near the bar at all.

He was trying to make Pete proud. He was trying to prove himself as a good singer and try to improve his crowd performances, but as always, he just humiliated himself and his friend as well. It wasn’t a good feeling to have, and after the apology, Patrick sat at the kitchen bench with his head in his hands as Pete ran around making breakfast.

“Look, Patrick, it’s not that bad, it was just one night, and to be honest, I’m glad you drunk dialled me. Otherwise how would you have gotten home?” Pete was doing his best to try and turn this into a positive after seeing how badly his friend was beating himself up over the event, and wasn’t really succeeding all that much.

Patrick just groaned and put his head down on the bench top. “Why do I keep doing this to myself, Pete?!”

“I dunno.” Pete replied honestly.

Patrick groaned for a second time and took a drink of his water. “I just wanted to do something right. I was gonna practice in secret, and build myself up to the big crowds, you know? Just, to be able to prove I was able to do anything.”

“And it was a good idea, ‘Trick.” Pete put a hand on the smaller man’s shoulder, and sighed to himself. It was easy to understand that he just wanted to improve, but it was always disheartening to listen to Patrick talk about his failures like this. If Pete had it his way, Patrick would do everything perfect every single time. Well, in fact, in Pete’s mind, he believed that Patrick was already perfect in every way, but that was a conversation for another time.

“What if I helped you, you know?” Pete offered. “I could come with you to the bars and stuff. You trust me, don’t you? I could just, be there to support you. We could work our way up. We’d start at like, a middle of the day session, and maybe work ourselves up to peak hour. Hell, I’ll get up there with you if it’ll help. By the time we play Riviera, we’ll be pros!”  
Patrick smiled slightly, before it fizzled out. “Aren’t we meant be pros already?”

Pete laughed. “Yeah, but to be honest, all the pros fake it. I mean, what about those interpretive dancers? I refuse to believe that they have any proper knowledge of how the dance is gonna go before they get up there. They just bullshit their entire way through, and as do we through every performance.”

“We have a setlist, Pete.” Patrick was smiling, but was also trying to be realistic here.

“Yeah, but still, all the dancing and walking around the stage and all that shit, it doesn’t really matter. Do you think I map out my course around the stage before every single show? Do you see me walking around during the soundcheck to make sure that I have all my steps in order?”

“I guess not.” Patrick admitted sheepishly, taking another sip of his water. He was making a conscious effort to continually consume it, plagued by the memory of waking up in that stupid hospital bed.

“Exactly. So, are we gonna go karaoke bar hopping together?” Pete asked with a smile on his face that he hoped was irresistible.

“Yeah, that’d be good.” Patrick squeezed Pete’s hand. “Thank you, for this.”

“That’s alright buddy, I’m happy to help you out.” Pete straightened up and grabbed the waffles after they came out of the waffle iron. He drizzled them with both butter and maple syrup before topping them with ice cream for quite a sugary breakfast that neither of them really needed, but had every intention of consuming otherwise.

\-------

Pete took Patrick to a different karaoke bar the next day, one in the suburbs and really wasn’t very busy at all. There were about 8 people in the lounge when they arrived at 2pm, and 4 of those people were children. Not really somewhere he was going to get experience playing in front of a crowd, so to speak, but it was a start.

When the family currently onstage finished their cover of a Black Eyed Peas song, it was Patrick’s turn. Pete had offered to go up with him, but with only a handful of people in an otherwise empty lounge, this was fine. Patrick picked his song, and started out a little nervous and shaky (Pete had almost gotten out of his seat to run up and get him, he’d gone quite pale at the start of the first verse), but recovered and by the time he got to the chorus, he was confidently belting out the lyrics.

Even the kids in the audience had started dancing, and the parents seemed pretty impressed with Patrick’s singing ability. They all applauded when he finished the song, and he came down from the stage with a smile he couldn’t hide.

Being able to sing in front of 9 people was a start. Now he just had to get ready to play for 9000.


	15. it's mind over you don't matter

It was band practice day, and Patrick suddenly remembered that he still hadn’t really told Joe or Andy that he was staying with Pete at the moment, and then realised that with only a week until they left for tour, he wouldn’t really even need to tell them in the first place. It was stupid that it wasn’t something he wanted to admit, but it did take a bit of pressure off his shoulders that he could just tell a white lie about it and only really carry it out for the next week.

They only had three more practices and then the tour was starting. God, that was a terrifying shot. They hadn’t even finalised their setlist yet. There were about 3 drafts, but nothing was finalised, and that really didn’t ease Patrick’s nerves about the entire situation. Hopefully that drama was gonna get sorted out today, and then they could do a couple of run-throughs before the tour.

God, he hoped he could keep it together.

His adventures around karaoke bars with Pete were getting better, and he was singing to 100 people the other night, but it was still a long way off the 9000 that had bought tickets to that first show. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous, but Pete had promised him that he was doing really, really well, and that the Riviera show was gonna go   
down great.

If only Patrick believed him. Not that he didn’t want to, he wanted to believe him more than anything in the world, but there were signs. Like the little smile-grimace thing that his psych lady did when he asked if she thought he was gonna be able to cope on tour. She always told him he’d be fine, but that split second of a facial expression told otherwise. 

And the fact that their manager was making a worst-case-scenario plan in case of disaster during the set didn’t help either.

Patrick tried to push the thoughts from his mind and finished getting ready for practice, swapping his sweatpants for jeans and an old sweater for a t-shirt and a cardigan, with a hat to finish it all off. Looking somewhat presentable always gave him some confidence, but it still didn’t shift that uncertainty in his stomach.

Really, the only thing he wanted to sort out his nerves was a beer, but he supposedly knew better than that now. He’d proven on multiple occasions that he had no self control and needed a babysitter at all times around alcohol. So it was just this annoying state of anxiety that he was going to have to live with during this band practice.

Pete was already down in the basement, setting up, stocking the fridge, making sure it was all in order for rehearsal, and smiled when Patrick came down. Patrick forced a smile back and walked over to his guitar, pulling the strap over his shoulders and letting his hands find their familiar spots on the strings. He wanted a beer more than anything right now, but music would have to do.

Pete had been friends with Patrick long enough now to notice his nervous-playing, and paused when he heard it. He closed the fridge after putting the last few cans of pepsi inside, and wandered over to the playing space to grab his bass.

If Patrick was gonna play his stressed-out, nervous music, he sure as hell wasn’t going to do it alone.

Pete didn’t recognise the song, it was clear that Patrick was just improvising, so Pete tried to improvise too and find a bass line that it along with it. It wasn’t easy, the song was quite sporadic and changing, but he did his best.

Patrick’s facial expression changed as soon as the other instrument joined the song, and he glanced up at his friend with a confused look. Pete just smiled back comfortingly, and flicking the cord away from his feet so he could wander a little while he played. Patrick was still trying to contemplate what was going on when Joe and Andy arrived, and Andy   
came straight to the drumkit to join the little impromptu nervous performance that was currently going on.

Joe was the last to join, but before long the four of them were playing some random song that was being led by Patrick’s guitar. It started as just nervous playing, but as the pressure grew, and the three other band members started to rely on him keeping the same kind-of melody, his hands began to shake and he abruptly stopped, beads of sweat running down his red face.

“You alright?” Joe asked, confused.

“Y-Yeah, fine, just gotta go grab some water.” Patrick didn’t hesitate in quickly running up the stairs hiding in the kitchen, away from prying eyes. He fumbled through the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of water and quickly pouring some of down his throat, only concentrating on making sure he was still breathing and hoping that the room might stop spinning soon.

Pete was the next in the kitchen, and by then Patrick had sunk to the floor and was still trying to keep his breath regular, but by the time Pete arrived, he was hyperventilating and had lost all the colour from his face. 

He swept in and gently patted Patrick’s back, and offered more of the water. Patrick wheezed a couple of times that he was okay, but it was becoming apparent to both of them that he was not. But siltting together on the floor and taking sips of the water helped, and by the time that Joe and Andy came up, the two were just sitting in silence on the floor, really.

“Is everything alright?” Joe asked.

“Yeah, all good.” Patrick quickly pulled himself up and dusted himself off. “Let’s just get started.”

Pete pulled himself up as well, and the four returned to the basement to work on their setlist. It was good to sit together and go through it, but everyone couldn’t help but notice Patrick’s distance from the conversation.

All Patrick was thinking about was how badly he wanted a beer.


	16. i wonder if your therapist knows everything about me

The next day, Patrick marched into his psych’s office after Pete dropped him off, let out a huge sigh and buried his head in his hands. “I’m not ready to tour.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but Patrick immediately cut her off with a growl of frustration, before sighing again. “Look, I, I know what I said at the beginning of these sessions, and I know that I told myself it wouldn’t come to this, but I can’t do it alone anymore. I-I, I just can’t go on this stupid tour and let my bandmates down. Y-You need to prescribe me something. Anything. Just make s-sure that it takes all the stupid fear away and lets me go on stage like any other normal person and sing well.”

“Patrick, take a deep breath, okay?” She told him gently. “I’m a psychologist. I can’t prescribe you medication. You’ll have to go see your GP for that. But you don’t need medication to help you on tour. You just need to remember the strategies that we’ve been working on to ground yourself.”

Patrick shook his head, and stood up before wandering over to the shelves in the corner and going through all the drawers. “You’ve got to have something you can give me. Anything. I can’t fucking do it anymore. I can’t be this disappointment to everyone anymore. You’re supposed to be teaching me not to be a ball of stupid insecurities, right?! Clearly I can’t do it on my own, so you’re gonna have to give me something!”

It was the look on his doctor’s face after his alarming outburst that made Patrick well up with tears and quickly slump back into the chair. He’d never had an outburst at her before. She was just trying to help him, and had been putting up with his sessions for almost a month now on practically a daily basis. She genuinely cared, and he was just being an asshole to her, just like he was being an asshole to Pete whenever Pete tried to help him out.

“God, I’m, I’m so sorry-”

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” She wrote something down on her clipboard, before putting a piece of paper on the coffee table between them. “Look, this is the last session before you leave for tour, so for today, let’s just go through the strategies we’ve done, and we’ll make a list that you can take with you. So that way when you’re on the road, you always have this to refer back to when it gets overwhelming. Does that sound alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’ll be good.” Patrick grabbed a tissue from the box and quickly blew his nose before grabbing a pen and beginning to work.

\-------------------

If there was anything that hyped Pete Wentz up for tour, it was the arrival of the bus. And this bus was the biggest bus that they’d ever toured on. It had a TV, it had a playstation, it had 8 bunks, it had a bathroom with a shower, and most importantly, it had a really, really big fridge that Pete was out shopping with Joe to fill.

It was a good distraction from the Patrick situation, and together they marched down the isles of many supermarkets and candy stores to source only the very best of the best for the best tour they’d ever done. It didn’t matter that they actually hadn’t done it yet, all that mattered was that they were prepared for the best tour of their lives.

“Are we gonna have room for all of these condiments?” Pete asked with a slight smirk, glancing down at their shopping cart full of various different hot sauce varieties.

“Obviously.” Joe responded with a sly smile, tossing another one in. 

“What if we can’t?”

“Then we’re just gonna have to eat them, aren’t we?”

“Fair enough then.”

The two returned to the bus and began stocking their pride and joy (the refrigerator) with condiments and candy (Pete believed that marshmallows always tasted better cold), before laying down on the bunks. Pete stuck a few photos on the top of his, one of his Mom and Dad, one of his entire family, and one of him and Patrick just because it was cute and he liked to wake up to the view of cute things that made him smile.

“Do you reckon we’ll use the shower on board or wait until we get to the hotel to clean up?” Joe asked, sticking his own photos up. 

“I dunno. Depends how many nights we go between hotel rooms.”

“True. I’ve heard from a couple of guys that the water pressure in the bus is terrible though.”

“Interesting.” Pete pondered that for a moment. “The hotel would probably come with free toiletries too.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s true.” Joe laid back and rested his hands on his chest. “Can you honestly believe we’re about to tour the entire country in the coolest tour bus ever? I mean, we all   
dreamed of this and now we get to like, actually do it.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty amazing.” Pete laid back in a similar fashion and stared at the photos. “It still kinda feels like a dream though. Like it’s not actually happening. I dunno, it’ll probably hit me once we start travelling and playing shows and being like, actual rock stars.” He laughed to himself. “I still don’t think of myself as a rockstar. I’m just like, a pretend rockstar who’s faking that they know what they’re doing.”

“Isn’t that what all rockstars do though?”

He thought back to his conversation with Patrick a few days earlier about professionals faking it till they make it, and smiled. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I guess that makes us rockstars then.”

Pete laughed and got up out of his bunk. “Joe Trohman and Pete Wentz: Rockstars. It’s got a ring to it.”

“Definitely.” Joe agreed.

Pete nodded, before checking the time. “Hey, I gotta go get Patrick, can you keep an eye on the bus?”

“Why are you still driving him around everywhere?” Joe asked. “I mean, he’s gotten so much better and stuff, why are you still doing it? He’s got a car of his own, you know. I feel   
like I don’t see you anymore, you’re always with Patrick.”

“Yeah, well, he’s doing it tough, and his car is still at his place and we haven’t been there in over a month and-”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, that was obviously something.”

“Look, it’s not my place to tell…”

“Well, it obviously is. We’re a band, dude. You gotta let me and Andy know what the hell is going on all the time with you two. Do you have some kind of thing going on, or what?”

“I mean, okay, um… so after Patrick had that little hospital visit he moved in with me. Just because he was going through a rough patch and wasn’t really looking after himself and had a little problem with alcohol for a while. But it’s all good now, so don’t worry.”

“If it’s all good now then why is he still there?”

“Uh… because it’s not like, completely good now, like there was an incident at a karaoke bar and shit and it just got messy…”

“Karaoke bars?” Joe questioned. “Seriously? I thought that was a whole band thing to do!”

Pete sighed and sat down. “He just wanted to practice singing in front of crowds so he didn’t fuck up tour for the rest of us.”

Joe’s face turned to one of realization, and sat down beside Pete in silence. “So, he’s not better yet then.”

“We don’t really know until he gets up there.”

“Shit.”

“Well, I mean, he played to about 150 people the other night, and that was pretty good.” Pete did attempt to defend his friend a little bit.

“That’s not the 9000 that he’s gonna be singing to tomorrow night.”

“You think I don’t know that?!”

“Well, what are we gonna do if he can’t do it?! Do we have a backup plan?! The label is gonna drop us if we can’t play this tour, Pete.”

“I know, I know, Bob has some guy, um… lined up to take his place, I think…” it made Pete and Joe both feel uncomfortable as those words hung in the air. Fall Out Boy was the four of them, Patrick included, and it didn’t feel right for him not to sing their songs. Plus, having some stranger come in and sing something that was so meaningful to the four of them, it made Pete visibly shudder. But this was the label, and this was money, and this was the tour that was going ahead whether Patrick could sing it or not.


	17. i don't blame you for being you

Before the break, Fall Out Boy’s time in the dressing rooms was one of laughter and good times, where they’d make jokes and get all warmed up and ready, while snacking on whatever their manager had brought them. Today Joe was trying to keep the atmosphere fairly hyped as he ran around shoving Doritos in his mouth, but there was an obvious elephant in the room in the shape of Patrick Stump.

Patrick knew he should be taking to his bandmates about the show that they were about to play, but he found himself becoming withdrawn and unattached. It didn’t feel real, he didn’t feel like himself. He just felt like his body was vacant, nobody was home inside Patrick’s head. It just felt…. Numb.

He spent a while pacing back and forth around the dressing room, and then pacing between the dressing room and the bathroom, and then pacing back and forth between his mirror and the snacks table. Their manager had actually left some beers for them, but Pete was right there and Patrick wasn’t exactly sure how he was going to get his hands on one without him noticing.

He probably needed one anyone, just to loosen him up so he wasn’t this robotic ball of nerves that was humming David Bowie songs under his breath in a lame attempt to convince everyone he was warming up. After another 3 laps of the dressing room, he built up the courage, stormed over a little more powerfully than was necessary, grabbed a   
can and popped the top and took a sip, all before Pete could get a word in.

Joe took it as an opportunity to have a laugh and did the same, before handing a can to Pete. “To the best damn tour Fall Out Boy has ever done!”

Pete was watching Patrick with a slightly concerned expression, but forced a smile and held his can up. “Cheers!”

Patrick held his can up and the three all tapped their cans together, Andy tapping a plastic cup of water against the cans to be included as well. Then they drank. Pete took a sip,   
Joe took a sip, Andy drank a mouthful, and Patrick poured the entire contents of the can down his throat.

“Woah!” Pete forced a laugh, and took the can off him. “Easy, buddy! You gotta save that for the after party, after we play that kickass set, right?”

Patrick blinked a couple of times, and furrowed his brows before backing down. “Yeah, right. I’m gonna, I’m gonna go warm up in the bathroom.”

“The bathroom?” Joe asked.

“Good acoustics.” He responded, quickly leaving the room.

The three remaining bandmates looked at each other, before Pete leapt up and chased him. He found his friend staring at his reflection, just taking deep breaths, before glancing at Pete’s reflection as it appeared beside his own.

“Fuck, Pete.” He whispered, near silent. “There’s just so much fucking pressure.”

Pete frowned, but patted his shoulder compassionately. “There’s no pressure. We just want you to do what you can. If shit hits the fan, then it is what it is. But you know that the guys and I don’t judge you on this. You’re the best fucking singer we know, whether you can play songs or not. You’re a great guy, Patrick, and honestly, fuck the label, fuck the show, fuck everything that’s putting pressure on you. We don’t mind. I’d take a happy, healthy Patrick Stump over a tour any fucking day.”

Patrick smiled weakly, before groaning and rubbing his eyes. “This is just everything I’ve ever wanted, and I’m just here and I just can’t grab it because my hands are shaking too much.”

“Well, let me be your hand.” Pete handed him a bottle of water. “Let’s sing some stupid show tunes to warm up, and get ready to do this awesome thing.”

“Yeah, okay.” Patrick took another deep breath.

“Can, can I try something?” Pete asked, feeling he just had a sudden breakthrough.

“Yeah, sure.”

Pete leaned over, pulled Patrick’s glasses off and put them in his pocket, before smiling. “There, how’s that?”

“I don’t know what you were trying to do there, but all you’ve done is made my vision blurry.” Patrick blinked a couple of times, adjusting to the difference.

“Yeah, but, if you can’t see the crowds, then you can’t freak out over them, can you?”

“I can't see anything, Pete, let alone crowds”

“You can see the fluorescent tape on the floor though, right?”

“Uh… vaguely?” Patrick’s vision had not been the grandest of things recently, and if Pete didn’t have his dark hair then he honestly doubted he’d be able to distinguish his friend from the cream-coloured tiles that lined the bathroom.

“Cool.” Pete smiled, patted his shoulder, and the two headed out.

They belted showtunes until they were about to go on stage, mostly to avoid letting fear take over Patrick’s mind again. Then the time came, their manager came to get them, and they headed to stage left. The sound of the crowd screaming as the visuals were counting down the time until they went onstage. They were handed their instruments; Pete his bass, Andy his drumsticks and Joe and Patrick, their guitars. Finally, the earpieces went in, and they were officially ready.

Patrick pulled the strap over his head and felt the familiar weight of his instrument, before running his fingers over his pick. It was calming, for a split second, until Pete started with the first chords of Grand Theft Autumn, and the band ran onto the stage.

Patrick aimed for the mic stand, but it sort-of blended in with the blurriness of the crowd. He did find it, and quickly grabbed it with his hand so he wouldn’t misplace it again, before glancing up and starting the song “Where is your b-boy tonight, I hope h-he is a g-gentleman…”

“Patrick, you’re too far forward, take a step back.” Their manager’s voice was unmistakable through the earpieces, but Patrick didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy looking straight ahead, while his face was going a shade of white.

“Shit.” Pete swore under his breath, quickly playing the intro chords again. 

“A-And maybe he…” Patrick trailed off into silence, before trying to pick back up, except now he was out of time. “And maybe h-he won’t f-find out…”

“Patrick, take a step back.” The earpieces told him again. “Somebody, get him back! Pete, walk over, do your weird play-hug thing you do, just get him off the edge of that stage!”

Pete ran over, he grabbed the mic and held it out to the crowd, symbolizing for them to sing the lyrics. Patrick had taken a few steps to the side, but much to the annoyance of their manager, he wasn’t getting any further away from the edge of the stage. Pete was doing his best to distract the crowd to notice when Patrick’s legs buckled, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell.

The only moment Pete realized that something was terribly, terribly wrong was when he heard the splat and the crack of his best friend landing on the floor after falling off the stage.

The fans at the front of the stage gasped. Joe and Andy stopped playing and ran to where he’d fallen. Patrick was lying face-down and a slow trickle of red was sneaking out from under him, illuminated by the stage lights. Pete jumped down, his chest tight and breathing fast, but the security guard grabbed him and pulled him away before he could roll him over.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” Pete screamed in protest.

“He landed on his neck.” The security guard told him with a sad and serious expression. “Don’t touch him. Wait for the ambulance. You’ll make it worse.”

Security stood in a crowd around Pete’s best friend as the crowd was evacuated so the ambulance could get in. Pete wanted to cry. He didn’t understand what was going on. He just wanted his best friend to be okay. All he wanted was Patrick to get up, dust himself off and say he was fine. But he was held back, and stood there, head spinning and eyes crying tears as more blood covered the floor. Every second felt like an hour, and he did try to get through the security a few times, but every time was pushed back.  
When the ambulance arrived, they rolled him over. Everything was red – his clothes, his skin, his leg which seemed to be bent at several angles that it wasn’t meant to be, and his face. Patrick had fallen over before, and fainted before, but he’d always landed relatively unscathed.

The sensation of Patrick’s glasses in his front pocket taunted him. This was all his fault.


	18. i wish i was invisible as you make me feel

Pete had been told it was a miracle. An absolute, goddamn, miracle. But as he sat in the hospital room next to his best friend’s comatose body, it didn’t feel like a miracle at all.

The tour had been cancelled – for obvious reasons. At first the label pleaded with Pete, Andy and Joe to keep going with the Patrick stand-in they’d organised, but they all stood their ground and refused to leave Chicago while Patrick was in the hospital there. They weren’t leaving their best friend for a tour. No way in hell was that happening.

It had been 2 weeks since the show, and Patrick was still in his medically-induced coma. The doctors promised Pete that Patrick would be up ‘any day now’ but that still seemed to be an eternity away. Pete mostly stayed at the hospital, occasionally venturing home to shower and change, but it was hard to take care of himself when he knew how badly his friend was hurt. He couldn’t get his mind off it. It was just easier to be here, to take the worry away. He always knew what was going on at all times.

The first 36 hours he didn’t leave the hospital, or sleep, at all. He’d come in the ambulance with Patrick, after spending that entire 40 minutes with his best friend bleeding out on the floor. Pete didn’t like to think about that. Nor did he like to think about sitting in the front of the ambulance, not being told anything, and listening to the sound of Patrick choking from the back of the van.

He had been told that it was a miracle how Patrick survived the fall. The doctor had explained that for a fall like that, where Patrick had not only collapsed and thrown up a little bit (that fact wasn’t discovered until they got in the ambulance and had to clear his airway), he’d hit the back of his head on the edge of the stage on his way down. It was a miracle that all he got was a bit of neck bruising. No permanent spine damage, no broken neck, just incredibly bad bruising that was yet to go down, a little skull fracture that had (thankfully) not damaged his brain (As far as they knew), a couple of broken ribs, a badly cut and bruised face, and a shattered left leg which was currently suspended in a full-length cast above Patrick’s bed.

It was hard to see, the whole room constantly seemed grey and dark and sad, with the only pop of colour being the fresh flowers that Andy brought each day. The other members of Fall Out Boy would come and visit often, but they didn’t live there like Pete did. Pete just couldn’t bear the thought of leaving. The thought of not being here if any progress was made, or if anything took a turn for the worst.

It had almost turned into a fear of leaving. It seemed every day there was some new complication; abnormal brain activity, infections everywhere, internal bleeding at one point. He couldn’t fathom not being here when something went wrong. What if something happened and he lost his friend? What if he never got to say goodbye? The thought terrified him. He’d had Joe bring him a camping bed which he’d spread out in Patrick’s hospital room for night time.

It wasn’t five-star accommodation, but it was a million times better than lying in bed at home unable to sleep. All Pete could do was worry.

He was worrying right now, standing in the line at the hospital cafeteria while waiting to get some lunch. He knew that Joe was upstairs keeping an eye on everything, but it didn’t help his stomach, which was lurching and doing knots. He just hurriedly ordered a hot dog when he got the front, and ran straight back up. Joe was still there, sitting on his phone, and gave Pete an odd look as he burst in.

“Pete, seriously, go eat and shower and stuff. I’m here, I’ll keep an eye on things.”

“It’s not that easy.” Pete sighed, sitting down on his squeaky camping bed in the corner. “You don’t, you don’t understand what this is like.”

“He’s my friend too! Of course I understand what it’s like!”

“Well, it wasn’t your damn fault that fell of the stage!”

Joe seemed confused for a moment. “It’s not your fault either?”

Pete pulled Patrick’s glasses out of his pocket. He’d had them on his person at all times over the past two weeks. He was just holding onto them, so he could give them over when Patrick woke up. But at the same time it was also a symbol of what he’d done. He was trying to help, he really was, but if Patrick could have seen where the edge of the stage was, then he wouldn’t be here right now with all those stupid injuries that he didn’t deserve.

God, Pete was an asshole. He’d ruined everything. This tour, his best friend’s health, and his own self-worth.

“Pete, c’mon, we both know it was an accident.” Joe walked over and took the glasses out of Pete’s hands. “You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“If I hadn’t taken his stupid glasses then he wouldn’t have fallen!”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do!” Pete huffed, before running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’ve let him down once, I’m not gonna let him down again by not being here.”

“If Patrick was awake right now, what would he think of this? You know he doesn’t like to impose. He’d probably be horrified to see you camping out in his hospital room like this.   
Go home, Pete. Just spend a night by yourself and relax a little.”

“He wouldn’t mind…” Pete trailed off, thinking about it. The more he thought about it, the less it was true. Joe was right. Patrick wouldn’t want this. He’d just want Pete to go on and do the tour and stuff. Obviously that wasn’t happening, but Joe did have a point about going home.

“J-Just for one night, and the hospital has to have me on speed-dial, a-and yeah.” He mumbled.

“Of course, you’re already their number one contact under Patrick’s name. Grab your stuff, I’ll give you a ride home.” Joe smiled warmly.

Pete gathered his things, folded his camper bed up into the corner, and followed Joe to the car park. Pete did officially live alone, but being here in this empty house, it was too quiet. He missed Patrick. The bed sheets were still folded on the spare bed from when Patrick made it two weeks ago.

The entire spare room reminded Pete of him. So did the kitchen bench, where they’d sit and share many meals, and the lounge room as well, they’d watch trashy reality TV and it was hilarious. Not to mention the basement, where they’d jam together, and Pete’s room, where Patrick would sometimes come in late at night.

It was hard not to think of him. Pete grabbed a beer, and sat down on the floor on his lounge room to watch House Hunters. He just wished his best friend was here to enjoy it too.


	19. i know this hurts, it was meant to

When Patrick woke up, it had been 3 weeks after he’d fallen asleep. Patrick was known to sleep in past midday, but this was a new record.

Obviously waking up wasn’t as simple as Patrick opening his eyes and having a joke about sleeping in too much. It was strange. Patrick didn’t really understand what was going on at first. He was stuck in this half-awake type mentality, and he was tired, god he was tired. All he really wanted to do was go back to sleep.

He recognised Pete at first, who screamed and shouted and leapt around, and Patrick thought that was a little bit weird and he didn’t really understand. Then he realised that maybe the Pete he could see wasn’t his real friend Pete, maybe it was some other Pete who was hanging around. Then he heard a lot of beeping and realised that it must’ve been the fire alarm going off, so he started screaming and told Pete to cut him free of everything and that they needed to get out because the building was burning down. He couldn’t understand why Pete wouldn’t do it, or why this Pete wasn’t getting out of the building himself. He couldn’t smell the smoke, or see the smoke, but there was this alarm so obviously something was wrong?

Pete wasn’t sure what was going on either. His friend was just lying in his bed comatose one minute, then eyes open the next and screaming about some sort of fire. Pete was so confused, there was no alarm going off, only the heart rate monitor and some other monitors as well. In alarm he called a doctor, but Patrick grabbed his arm and told him that this was part of some sort of plan; and the aliens were trying to burn down the hospital so that he would die.

It all made sense when the doctor explained that having some delusions after waking up from a coma was normal, and it wouldn’t be long until Patrick adjusted to being awake and returned to himself. That did take a huge relief off his shoulders, and Pete thanked the doctor profusely before entering the room again.

Patrick was quiet now, he just staring at his hand and the heart rate monitor clipped to his finger. He was flicking his finger back and forth, feeling the weight of the device weighing his hand down unnaturally.

“Hey, buddy…” Pete approached the bed, still feeling hesitant about whether this was his friend, or whether this was his friend having delusions.

“Pete.” Patrick stated, studying his friend’s face. “You’re not wearing any eyeliner today.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Pete chuckled softly and sat down beside his friend, before taking Patrick’s hand. “You’ve had a long sleep. Do you remember what happened?”

“Did I miss lunch?” Patrick asked, his face falling. “I heard there was a pie for lunch today! I didn’t want to miss that!”

“No, no, you haven’t missed lunch, buddy.” Pete checked his watch. “It’s only 10:30 in the morning, and I’ll get you a pie if you want one. You had a much longer sleep than that.”

Patrick seemed confused. “Did I go to bed early?”

“No, no, you were in a coma for a couple of weeks.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.” Pete gently tapped the heart rate monitor. “That’s why there’s this on your finger, and all these other tubes here in your arm. You had a really long sleep.”

“Oh.” Patrick touched the heart rate monitor with his other hand. “That’s weird. I’m still tired though. Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Maybe just stay awake a little longer buddy.” Pete tried to smile, and hide his fear that Patrick would go straight back into his coma if he closed his eyes again. “After all, I’m gonna get you that pie for lunch, right?”

“Right.” Patrick seemed confused, and furrowed his brows before wincing. “My face hurts, Pete.”

Patrick’s face was still very bruised. It was nowhere near as swollen and purple as when he came in, but the scabs and redness gave the impression that it would hurt a hell of a lot   
to move at all. Pete winced slightly, but nodded. “Yeah, you hurt it a little bit.”

“How did I do that?”

Pete didn’t really know how to explain it, so he went with a simple solution. “You went splat.”

“Splat?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.”

“Mmmmm.”

“Did I break anything else, when I went splat?” Patrick asked, fiddling with his heart rate monitor again.

“I mean, your leg.” Pete gestured to the cast. “And your ribs are a little hurt too, and your head, aaaaaand…” Pete trailed off, trying to remember everything. God, there was quite a lot. “And then I think you had a really bad concussion, and there was something about your teeth? I think you chipped a tooth. Aaand um…. Yeah, it was a bad fall.”

Patrick had tuned out, and was staring at his casted leg. “It feels weird, Pete.”

“Yeah, that’s because you broke it in 3 places, and shattered your ankle.”

“Can you take it down?” Patrick tried to sit up to do it himself, but let out a cry of pain and quickly laid back down. “A-Ah…”

“Do you want me to ask the doctors if they can?” Pete asked nervously.

“Just t-take it out of the sling, p-please.” Patrick begged.

And Pete, still racked with guilt, did as asked. He only drew the line when Patrick tried to get out of bed.

“Woah, woah, nope, not happening ‘Trick.” Pete gently pushed his shoulder’s back to their spot on the bed. “Not yet, at least. Not until the doctor says.”

“I wanna go home.”

“Not right now. You gotta wait until you get approval from the hospital.”

“Am I in the hospital?”

There was a moment of silence, before Pete nodded slowly. “Yeah, yeah. You’ve been here for 3 weeks while you were sleeping, remember?”

“Right….” Patrick murmured, slumping back onto the pillows. “Okay… after I went splat.”

Pete laughed, and nodded. “Yeah, after you went splat.”

“Okay, that makes sense…” He murmured. “What do the doctors say?”

“They’re glad you woke up after your sleep. So am I.” Pete smiled and gently brushed some hair out of Patrick’s eyes, before he was hit with a sudden wave of realization. “Do you want your glasses?”

“Do I have glasses? The thought baffled Patrick for a moment.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, then, yeah?”

Pete reached into his pocket and grabbed the frames, polishing both the lenses with his t-shirt before passing them over. Patrick put them on and blinked a few times before smiling, revealing a couple of chipped teeth. But it was a smile, and Pete smiled back. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Awesome. You’ll never be without them again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the whole 'went splat' thing is kinda like an inside joke with my friends and I. I was explaining Patrick falling off the stage to all my friends who do physics and we drew diagrams and stuff about how he'd fall and where he'd hit and how bad his injuries could possibly be and it was very funny. This fanfiction is 100% scientifically accurate about Patrick 'going splat'


	20. the lights are on and everybody's home

Pete did go get Patrick a pie for lunch, as promised. He even drove all the way across town to find the best one, despite the doctors forewarning him that Patrick probably wouldn’t be able to keep it down. If his best friend wanted a pie when he woke up from a coma, then he was sure as hell going to get one.

Pete walked into the room with a confident smile and a pie box in his hands. Patrick smiled and waved with his left hand, while a doctor was testing his blood pressure with the right. Andy was in the room now (As soon as Pete left to get the pie he made a couple of calls announcing that Patrick was awake) and greeted him as well.

“Hi Pete!” Patrick grinned widely, seemingly far too happy for someone who had just gotten out of a coma. “Look at what Andy brought me!” He held up a stuffed bear with ‘get well soon’ embroidered on the stomach.

“Very nice.” Pete laughed, holding the box out. “I brought you the pie.”

“Awww! Thank you!”

The doctor chuckled and smiled at Pete. “He’s still adjusting. He’ll probably be quite a bit out of it for about a week or so. He’s awake but well, he’s still got quite a lot of amnesia at the moment, and we’re gonna run daily tests for a while to see if this is just part of the coma or something more serious. But at the moment, he’s pretty happy, and is in good spirits, so everything seems to be in order.”

“Thanks, doc.” Pete smiled. “Other than that, is everything else in order?”

“Yeah, the vitals are mostly all normal. Blood pressure is a little high, but it’s not something we need to worry about too much right now. 

“Awesome. He can have the pie?”

“Yeah, but he’s on some pretty strong pain medication right now, so I can’t guarantee he’ll keep it down.” The doctor turned to Patrick. “Do you want some pie?”

Patrick just nodded.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” The doctor turned back. “I’ll be doing rounds every half hour to check in you guys. Push the call button if anything happens. And don’t let him get out of bed.”

“Of course.”

“Awesome. The best thing for him right now is to just sit and chat with you guys, it might help him with memories and stuff.”

 

“Pete!” Patrick interrupted loudly. “You’ll be on my team, right?”

“I’m always on your team, ‘Trick.” Pete responded, slightly confused.

“Those two are teaming up on me and won’t tell me how old I am even though I already know and want to see if they’re right. So you’ll tell them, right?”

“Right…”

The doctor sighed. “There’s been a couple of big memory blanks. Um… he knows his first name, but not his middle and last name or age, and he doesn’t know his band’s name, but he knows you clearly. Hopefully that stuff will all come back soon, I’ll be around.”

“Yeah, alright.” Pete nodded, feeling the pie getting colder in his hands. “See you soon.”

The doctor smiled at all of them, put the clipboard on the end of the bed, and left the room. Pete brought over a table and gave Patrick the fork to eat his pie with, before sitting down next to Andy. Patrick did seem to enjoy the meal, getting it on the bedsheets, and on his face. He didn’t seem to notice though, he was very out of it, and mostly just enjoyed getting it everywhere.

“How’s he been while I was gone?” Pete asked Andy, watching Patrick with a small amused smile.

“Yeah, all good. He’s been telling me all about him ‘going splat’.”

Pete chuckled. “I tried to make a family friendly way of explaining it.”

“Mmmm.” Andy nodded. “I met with Bob and a label representative yesterday about the tour and stuff.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s going ahead. Two months from now. Brendon’s gonna sing, Patrick is gonna play lead guitar.”

“What? No, no, we agreed, no replacement singers. That’s just gonna crush him. Not fair.”

“Pete, we wouldn’t be sitting here at all if we’d made the hard call to begin with.” They both looked over at the man indulging in the pie. “I love him as much as you do, but we have a contract, and we need to play the shows, and unfortunately Patrick isn’t gonna be able to sing at them.”

Pete shook his head. “I’m not touring with Brendon singing our songs. They’re not his to sing. Besides, won’t the public think it’s weird that the touring singer is different to the singer on the record?”

Andy just shrugged. “I’m just telling you what the label said. You can take it up with Bob.”

Pete grumbled, and buried his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t even met Brendon yet. And we’re supposedly touring with him in two months?”

“He’s a really nice guy, Pete. Amazing vocals too, and knows how to party. I think maybe one tour with him might be what Patrick needs to break out of his shell.”

“I don’t think that’s how Patrick’s gonna see it.”

“See what?” Patrick asked, looking over. “I can see great! I got my glasses back!”

Andy simply responded with a “cool” before ignoring him and turning back to Pete. “He’s still playing guitar, he’s still a part of the band, and he’ll still come with us. We’ve organised everything. Like, we’ve got a little stool near the drums where he can sit and play, and it’ll all be sorted.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to replace our lead singer!”

“Just for one tour!”

Pete shook his head. “Just, get out. The guy just got out of a fucking coma. If you’re not gonna be nice to him right now, then don’t be here in his hospital room.”

Andy frowned. “I’ll go, but not because you asked me too. Hey, I hope you feel better Patrick.” He patted Patrick’s shoulder’s a couple of times, before leaving the room.

“Why did he go?” Patrick asked, clearly confused.

“He… had to go play drums.”

“Drums! I knew that was his instrument!” Patrick grinned. “The doctor kept asking and I knew but it was on the tip of my tongue, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Is the pie good?”

Patrick nodded. “It’s the best pie ever because you’re the best friend ever.”

That just made Pete smile. “Thanks, ‘Trick.”


	21. never the same person when i go to sleep as when i wake up

Not that Pete would ever admit this, but he liked spending time with recovering-from-a-coma Patrick. He was still so very out of it, and was often confused and misunderstood, but he was happy. Pete hadn’t seen his best friend this happy in a very long time.

Obviously he knew this was temporary, and he knew that Patrick was just recovering from an injury and had quite a bit of head trauma, but it was hard not to smile when Patrick would wake up from a nap and vividly and excitedly explain a dream about pancakes. He didn’t really understand a whole lot about where he was (he was often surprised he had an IV in his arm and would gasp in alarm whenever he spotted it), or how injured he was, but he was happy to just lie in bed and talk to Pete, or watch the TV in the corner which usually was set to some teen dramas.

And not that Pete would admit it, but teen drama wasn’t that bad of a TV channel to watch.

It had been a week now, and Patrick had made a couple of improvements in his memory (He knew how old he was, and he knew his last name, and Pete’s address, and the name of his band), but it still had quite a number of gaps (He had no idea who Joe was, couldn’t remember going to high school and couldn’t name his parents). It was a little bit worrying, and the doctors seemed concerned, but Andy and the label showed no signs of slowing down the plans to tour.

Pete just hadn’t been speaking to them. Andy had visited Patrick two more times in the past week since he woke up, and generally brought gifts of stuffed animals, which Patrick loved. He had a little family of teddy bears living on the bed with him now, and refused to let anyone touch them. Even the doctors and Pete got a talking to if they went to move one. That meant that Patrick always wanted to see Andy, and Pete would let Patrick see whomever he wanted. 

Today the doctors had finally given Patrick clearance to get out of bed. He was to go for a walk around the hospital with two nurses and Pete, and some crutches as well. Part of this was to get him some exercise, and part of this was to test if his physical co-ordination had been affected by his injury. Patrick, of course, had no idea what that meant, and was just excited to go look around.

“Could we walk all the way to the kitchen?” Patrick asked Pete the morning of, sipping his cup of milk through a straw.

“I don’t know buddy, we’ll just go where the nurses say we can go.”

“Okay…” He mumbled, jutting his bottom lip out.

“Awwww, is it really that important?”

“Uh huh.” Patrick moped.

“Well, just ask the nurses and see what they say, alright?”

“Okay… is Andy gonna come and visit today?”

“I… don’t know. I had a bit of a fight with him yesterday…” Pete trailed off nervously, thinking of the phone call the night before. Andy had called with the dates of the new tour, and then Pete yelled that they weren’t going anywhere until Patrick was better, then Andy said they would just tour without Patrick because Brendon could play guitar anyway, and then Pete got angry and hung up.

“Aww… okay.” Patrick mumbled. 

“Don’t worry too much about it, yeah? He’ll come and see you soon, don’t worry.” Pete gently patted his shoulder. 

“Will he bring more bears?”

“I don’t know, ‘Trick. Maybe.”

“Because I really like the bears. I think they’re pretty cool.” Patrick smiled down at his collection. 

“Yeah, I realised.” Pete chuckled softly, reaching out to grab the one on the end. Patrick quickly held his hand out, and pushed him away. Pete wasn’t surprised, and just gave his friend a look before leaning back in the chair that had become his own.

“Are you gonna come for a walk with me?” Patrick asked after finishing his drink.

“Uh huh. It’s gonna be me, and some nurses, and your doctor.”

“Do I need that many?” Patrick played with his lip. “I don’t… I don’t remember needing to walk with lots of people… do I need that many people with me when I walk places?”

“No, no, you’re capable of walking on your own.” Pete assured him. “You just haven’t walked in nearly a month and we’re just gonna come so you don’t fall over.”

That just made Patrick giggle. “I’m not gonna fall over.”

“Alright, well, we’ll just see how it goes.”

When the time came, and the team of people assembled, Pete helped his friend out of bed and handed him some crutches. For a split second it was really great, until he teetered a little to the right, and over he went. Pete caught him, and quickly helped him back up. Patrick just found it funny, and giggled when he noticed everyone’s concerned expressions.

“Alright, let’s go…” The doctor announced uncertainly.

Pete pushed the drip stand, and Patrick crutched (painfully slowly) to the end of the corridor. He stumbled, but quickly recovered, and giggled again. “This is fun. Can we go to the kitchen?”

His doctor gave him an odd smile, but shrugged. “If you feel like you’re able to go to the kitchen, then we can go to the kitchen. We just turn left here.”

He nodded and turned left (The doctor ticked a box on his clipboard for sense of direction). The walk wasn’t quiet. Patrick filled the silence with mindless chatter, greeting every person they passed with a giggle, and talking about all the food that they were gonna find in the kitchen and how amazing it was going to be when they got down there. Then he talked about all his favourite foods (Which, much to Pete’s surprise, actually matched up with his favourites before the coma), and then about how he was getting really tired and sleepy and needed to stop.

After they’d found him a chair, Pete panicked and asked if this was a bad sign, but the doctor had to admit that Patrick had already exceeded all expectations about how far he’d be able to crutch, and was really on his way to recovery now. It was just the memory issues and the mindless blabber (Even when sitting whilst taking a break, Patrick had taken to telling the nurses about a very nice chair that was in Pete’s living room) that was a little concerning, but told Pete that only time would tell whether that was permanent or not.

Now that was concerning. All this time Pete had been told that it was all just temporary, and it was almost a guarantee that Patrick would return to old Patrick soon enough. He turned to face his friend, who was now distraught at being told they were going back to the room and he wasn’t going to get to the kitchen after all, and a great sense of worry filled his heart. 

“Can’t we just, get a wheelchair or something and take him to the damn kitchen?” Pete asked quietly. “C’mon, don’t kill his dreams.”

“We really don’t have a lot more time here.”

“Please, c’mon, look, he’s nearly in tears.”

It was true, Patrick was heartbroken. He just wanted to visit where his cups of milk came from in the morning and thank the chefs for the dinners they made him. He was so close!

“Fine.”

So they took him to the kitchen, and Patrick was excited to look around, and they even gave him a cup of milk with a straw as a gesture of goodwill. He was very satisfied with his walking adventure, and didn’t mind when he went back to the room afterwards.

All Pete did was worry that his old friend might not be coming back.


	22. but there's a light on in chicago and i know i should be home

It was only after an entire month in hospital after waking up from the coma that Patrick got medical clearance to go home. His cast was still around his leg, and he was given absolutely no permission to do any physical activity other than crutching around, but he was coming home, and that was all Pete wanted.

He was getting better, slowly, and bit by bit was rebuilding all his memories. He recognised the house when he pulled up, and remembered coming here for band practice, but when they got through the door, he couldn’t remember for the life of him the way to the spare room.

Not that it was a happy thing, but Pete had become adjusted to Patrick’s blanks, and was patient with him as he showed him around the house again to help him remember. Some things just clicked (the band practice room, the living room and the kitchen), but things like the spare room were completely new.

Patrick walked in and sat down on the bed (Walking was painful, thanks to the broken ribs and the heavy cast, and he was grateful for a spot to sit) before running his hands over the sheets. “These are new. I don’t know these.”

“Yeah, I got them for you when you came to stay with me.” Pete explained, putting the bag of bears on the bed beside him. 

“Huh.” Patrick ran his hand along them, feeling the texture. “They’re soft.”

“Uh huh. 1000 thread count. They’re nice ones.”

“Fancy.”

“Only the best for you, ‘Trick.” Pete smiled. “Do you wanna come watch some TV or just have a little alone time?”

“Can I have a beer?” Patrick asked, before furrowing his brows. “That’s weird. I don’t know…. I just want one all of a sudden.”

“I don’t think I’ve got any, sorry buddy…” Pete lied. “Um… that’s probably a conversation for another time. I’ll give you a bit of time. I’ll be out in the kitchen if you need me, okay?”

Patrick just nodded and Pete walked out, slightly confused. It had become clear through conversation that Patrick didn’t remember anything about his ‘slump’. That meant he had no recollection of his alcohol issues, and yet he was asking for beer now? That was weird, but for some reason it gave him hope. The memory was still in there somewhere, it just needed to come back.

And then hopefully he’d learn from it and get out of the cycle of alcohol dependence that he’d found himself in.

Pete tried not to dwell on things as he got started on dinner. He’d invited the guys around for dinner and a bit of a jam. The doctor recommended to get Patrick playing again as soon as possible, considering he was a musician and a lot of his memories lay in the music that he listened to. It sounded a little unconvincing at first, but as soon as the doctor explained the science between music and the memory links, Pete knew he had to get Patrick playing soon.

He’d already started on his ‘cure Patrick with music’ mission, and was playing a mix CD on the stereo while he cooked, hoping Patrick might come out and sit with him, and if not, then the walls were thin and hopefully the songs would float through to his room anyway.

Pete managed to hold himself back from going in there for much longer than he thought he’d be able to, but after two hours, he couldn’t stand the silence anymore and knocked softly on the door before opening it up.

Patrick had destroyed the room, so to speak. All the drawers were open, their contents thrown on the floor. Practically everything had either been pulled out, or tipped over, and Pete could hardly see the carpet. Patrick was lying on the bed with his bears, flicking through a notebook. 

“Hey…. ‘Trick…” Pete glanced around the room, trying to hide his shock that the man with the broken leg and the brain injury had managed to do this much damage so quietly.

Patrick looked up from his book. “Do I wear hats? Should I be wearing a hat?” He gestured to the photo frames on the wall behind him. “I’m wearing a hat in every photo.”

“Well, I mean, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to…” Pete walked over, kicking stuff out of the way, and sitting down on the other side of the bed. “You used to really like hats.”

“Used to.” Patrick stated, letting the words roll off his tongue. “I don’t really know who I used to be… or who I’m meant to be… it’s weird. Like… there’s just these big empty chunks and I don’t know how to fill them. I can look at you, and I know that you’re Pete, and you’re my best friend, but, well, I don’t know how we met, and I don’t know all the things that we’ve done together, and I don’t remember coming to live with you even though you keep telling me that I did, and then I don’t know my home address either, but I do know yours. Is that weird? I don’t know.” Patrick went silent for a second, before sighing. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

Pete was staring at his friend, computing what he’d just said. It was probably the most intelligent and thought-out thing he’d said since waking up. “’Trick, it really doesn’t matter what you do and don’t remember. You’re still you, you don’t have to pretend to be the ‘old you’ or whatever. It really doesn’t matter at all. Me and the guys and the label and stuff, we just want you to be you. The right-now you. And look, I don’t know what memories you’re gonna get back and stuff, but it honestly doesn’t matter. We’re gonna make new memories together.”

“Does it make you sad that I don’t remember things?” Patrick asked, looking up at his friend with a solemn expression.

Oh boy, now that was a big question. Pete took a second to think before responding. “I’m not sad because you can’t remember things, I’m sad because you’re hurt pretty bad and I can’t really help you.”

“But you’re my best friend, right?” Patrick asked, and Pete nodded. “Then that means that you liked the old version of me, before I went splat and stuff. So now that I don’t really know who that was, it means that that person is gone and that means that you don’t have your best friend any longer… so wouldn’t that make you sad?”

“Shit, Patrick, I… I don’t know how to respond to that.”

“It’s okay if you are.” He murmured. “Sad, I mean. I’d be sad if you were gone. I mean, I don’t know a whole lot about you right now, but if old me was best friends with you then you weren’t half bad. And you’ve stayed with me a whole lot in the hospital and you’re patient and when I don’t remember something you don’t get mad, and… yeah. So you must be a nice guy, and I think the new me likes you as much as the old me did.”

That got Pete all choked up, and he put his arm around his friend, puling him close. “I like you too, Patrick. Always. Whether it’s the old you or the new you, I don’t care. You’re the best damn friend I’ve ever had.”

“Awww.” Patrick smiled and rested his head on Pete’s shoulder. “That’s nice of you to say.”

Pete couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, so I’ve invited the guys over for dinner to have a chat and then we’re gonna have a bit of a jam session downstairs. So does that sound alright? I know you only know a little about Andy, and you don’t remember Joe, but it’ll be good to get to know them again.”

Patrick wrinkled his nose up. “But they’ll just think I’m rude because I don’t know anything.”

“’Trick, they all understand what happened. They don’t think you’re being rude.”

“Why do you call me that?” Patrick asked suddenly. “I know my name is Patrick and stuff, but wouldn’t that be shortened to Pat?”

“Um… well… your Mom used to be called Pat by all her friends and stuff so you didn’t like being called Pat because it made you think that people were talking to your Mom. So we call you ‘Trick instead.”

“Oh, that makes sense…” He paused a second. “So Pat is my Mom’s name. Okay…”

“Yeah….” Pete rubbed the back of his neck with his other hand, realising that was information that they were waiting for Patrick to come up with on his own.  
“One more question… um, when everyone gets here, how am I meant to know which one is Joe?”

“Well, there’ll only be the four of us there, and you know yourself, and Andy, and me, so the only one that you don’t know will be Joe.”

“That makes sense…”

“Yeah. Hey, how about we clean this room up while we wait for everyone else to get here?” Pete slowly stood up and started gathering the clothes off the floor. “It might be a bit   
easier for you to get around if there’s nothing on the floor.”

“Yeah…” Patrick laughed awkwardly. “I, I was trying to piece together a few more things about the room and all my stuff, like learn a little more about myself… and I wasn’t really thinking about how I was gonna clean it up.”

“That’s okay, just, like, next time, come ask me and I’ll help you go through stuff so it doesn’t end up like this.”

Patrick nodded. The two got to work, with Patrick folding the clothes on the bed, and Pete putting the folded clothes back into their drawers and sorting out everything else. By the time they were done, the room looked suitable again, and dinner was nearly done. Pete handed Patrick his crutches and helped him up, before they both went to the kitchen to set up for the dinner party.

By god, Pete was happy that his best friend was home.


	23. woke up on the wrong side of reality

The dinner party was perfect in theory. Pete had made a roast dinner and it had filled the house with a lovely smell, and Patrick seemed reasonably excited to see the guys, so everything was in order. 

It was only when they showed up that everything started to derail. Pete’s plan involved Joe and Andy coming over to help Patrick with some of his memory issues, but that all hit the ceiling when Andy came in and announced that he’d invited Brendon and Bob along – considering that they were leaving for tour soon and it would be good for them to have a proper practice rather than just a short jam.

Before Pete could even get a word in, the two uninvited guests walked through the door. Pete doubted they’d been told that they weren’t really invited at all, and just forced a smile as Joe handed him a casserole so there would be enough food for all six of them. 

Pete just muttered a string of profanity under his breath as he went to set another two places at the table.

Patrick was sitting quietly at the kitchen bench, staring at the crowd of people that was laughing and smiling. He recognised Andy straight away, but was a little disappointed to note that he didn’t have any more bears with him today. The other three… he knew the bald man in the collared shirt from somewhere, but couldn’t place it. The other two were   
completely blank. 

That was a complete and utter 50/50 chance. So he bit his lip, got on his crutches and headed over to the man in the lavender hoodie and smiled. “Hi Joe!”

The man gave him a bit of an odd look, but then seemed to remember something. “I’m not Joe, that’s Joe over there. You must be Patrick, then.”

“Um… yeah…” Patrick mumbled, his cheeks flushing pink. “I-I-“

The bald man joined the conversation, and smiled at him. “You’re looking really good, Patrick. Honestly. Is it good to be out of hospital?”

There was a moment of silence as Patrick tried to figure out what to say, before forcing a smile and pretending that he understood what was being asked of him. “Good.”

“That’s really good news.” The man beamed. “Do you know how long you have to have the cast for?”

Cast? What cast? Patrick adjusted his weight on his crutches, before remembering that he broke his leg at some point. How long ago was that? How long until it was better? “I-I-, uh… I…”

“Do you want a soda, Patrick?” The man who he now knew to be the real Joe called from the kitchen. “Brendon? Bob?”

“U-Uh… yes please?” He responded nervously, hoping that was the right answer.

He was relieved beyond belief when Pete came back into the room, because he knew that Pete had all the answers about himself that he didn’t have. 

“You must be Pete!” Lavender hoodie man smiled, shaking Pete’s hand. “It’s so good to finally meet you. Thank you for inviting me tonight, it’s really a pleasure.”

“It’s no problem.” Pete lied with a smile. “Hey, do you want to come through to the table and I’ll get dinner served?”

Pete let Bob lead the way, giving him a split second alone with Patrick, who just looked very stressed, and very confused as to what was going on. “Hey, I’m sorry these other guys showed up, I think Andy invited them. I didn’t mean for this to get overwhelming.”

“How long do I, how long do I need a cast?” Patrick asked, meeting his friend’s eyes nervously.

“Three months.”

“Okay… is that a long time?”

“Well… yeah…”

“Okay…” He nodded uncertainly. “Three months. Yeah, okay. I know that.”

“Did one of the guys ask you?” Pete asked, growing slightly concerned.

“The bald man. I know him, I recognise his face, but I don’t know where from…”

“That’s Bob, he’s our band manager and he works with our label.” Pete explained slowly. “He’s generally a pretty good guy.”

“Right, okay…” Patrick mumbled. “Okay.”

“Hey, is this too overwhelming?” Pete asked gently. “Because I can send them home if it is.”

“But without dinner?” Patrick asked. “That’s mean. They came for dinner and then I think one of them brought food too.”

Pete chuckled. “Hey, how about we skip the band practice after and we just have dinner together?”

“Um…” Patrick paused. “What band practice?”

That took Pete by surprise, but he did a good job of hiding it. “Nothing, it’s all good. C’mon, let’s go have dinner.”

“Okay…”

Pete helped him to a chair in the dining room and went to get plates for everyone. Patrick started a conversation with Bob about how long he had to have his cast for.

“Three months.” He blurted out.

“Sorry?”

“Three months. I need the cast for three months.” He explained, forcing a smile at the end.

“Oh, wow… that’s a long time.”

“Is it?” Patrick asked. “I don’t know.”

“When I broke my leg I was only in a cast for six weeks.” Joe added, placing a can of soda in front of Patrick. “But you needed surgery so it’s probably a lot longer.”

“Surgery? Did I have surgery?”

He could tell everyone was staring at him, and he quickly looked down at his lap, filled with embarrassment. He stayed quiet until Pete came bringing food, and even then just tried to let his friend lead the conversation so he wouldn’t make things worse.

“This looks amazing, Pete.” Brendon complimented with a smile as everyone began to fill their plates. “These are the kind of dinners I’m really gonna miss on tour.”

Joe nodded in agreement. “Even though hot sauce is an amazing meal on it’s on, there’s something special about home cooked food that everyone misses.”

“Guys, you still don’t seriously think we’re leaving on that stupid tour, do you?” Pete asked in disbelief. “We’re not going anywhere until Patrick has medical clearance.”

“He already has medical clearance.” Bob told him through a mouthful of roast potato. “The hospital faxed through the certificate earlier today.”

“What?! Seriously?!” Pete asked in disbelief. “I hardly got medical clearance to bring him home! What kind of- who did you slip some cash for a fake clearance?!”

Patrick was quite disturbed by all the shouting, and was flinching away from the table. He didn’t understand why Pete was so upset, or what they were even talking about at all.

“We didn’t pay anyone. We talked to the hospital earlier.” Andy explained. “Look, he’s got clearance to travel around the country and play guitar. No singing and no putting weight on his leg, but he got medical clearance to come with us.”

“Seriously?!” Pete threw his arms in the air. “Have you even talked to him?! He’s recovering from a traumatic brain injury! Do you seriously think that shoving him in a bus and driving him around the country is going to help him at all?!”

“It might actually help bring back some touring memories.” Andy suggested.

“No! No it will not!” Pete was getting really frustrated. “He’s not going. Look at him. He clearly has absolutely no idea what’s going on right now. He can hardly remember anything, and you guys just had to interrogate the absolute shit out of him earlier!”

“We were just trying to chat.” Brendon defended. “Yeah, what did we talk about Patrick? You thought I was Joe.”

“Exactly!” Pete exclaimed loudly, and Patrick flinched again. “You can’t seriously expect him to tour when he doesn’t remember one of his own band members! Seriously guys! You need to suspend it, or cancel it, or some other shit, because I’m not going, and Patrick’s not either.”

“I don’t think you fully understand your contractual obligations.” Bob wiped his face with a napkin. “This is the latest we can push the tour without losing our deposits on venues.”

“Fuck the venues!” Pete was heading to some uncontrollable rage at this point. “I cannot believe you’re putting some dollars over Patrick’s safety!”

“There’s a reason he’s not singing anymore. If he can’t play guitar, then we’ll look at other options, but I know how important having the four of you there is, so I’m just trying to work stuff out for all of you.” 

Brendon was the one to try and bring piece, and stood up. “Alright, c’mon, stop shouting. No more tour talk tonight, everyone’s stressed and all the facts aren’t known. And you’re making Patrick cry.”

Everyone turned their attention to the end of the table, where Patrick was indeed crying, despite trying to hide it. Pete felt his chest get heavy and he sighed. “I’m sorry, ‘Trick. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Patrick didn’t respond. Everyone finished their dinner in silence, and after helping with the dishes, Pete ushered them all out. Patrick was still sitting at the kitchen table, and Pete nervously sat back down next to him.

“Hey, ‘Trick… I’m sorry I got mad at everyone.”

“The shouting was too loud.” He whispered. “But I just, I couldn’t, I don’t know what everyone was saying.”

“Yeah, that’s okay.” Pete gently rubbed his shoulder. “Was it that you didn’t understand what they were saying, or could you not keep up with the conversation?”

“U-Um, I, I could hear everyone getting angry but I, I didn’t know who’s voices belonged to who and I didn’t understand why they were talking about a tour or something. I don’t know what that is. A-And, then you pointed to me at one point and said I didn’t understand… and that sucked because I didn’t.”

“God, I’m sorry.” Pete apologised again. “That was awful. I’m really sorry. I was just getting angry because they want us to go on a tour. Um… they want us to travel the country and play music for a long time. And I was getting mad because you’re not really recovered enough to go, and they want you to go anyway, and that’s a bit scary because it means that you might get a lot more hurt.”

“Oh.” Was Patrick’s only response.

“So yeah, I’m sorry I yelled, but that’s what’s going on.”

“I might just, I wanna go to bed now.” Patrick admitted.

“Yeah, that’s alright buddy. Sleep well, yeah?”

“You too. Night Pete.”

“Night ‘Trick.”

\------

It was about midnight when Pete’s bedroom door opened and he heard the familiar sound of the crutches enter. Patrick flopped down beside him, and laid on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Everything okay?” Pete asked sleepily.

“I just remember doing this.” Patrick responded, clearly wide awake. “Coming in here when I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh, well, that’s good.” Pete yawned. “You can stay if you want. I don’t mind.”

"Okay."

"Night Patrick."

“Night Pete.”


	24. you're the one habit i just can't kick

Patrick was hesitant to pick up music again. From the way that Pete had been talking, it was clear that it was something that was essential to who he used to be. Apparently he was super talented, he could play loads of instruments, and according to Pete, ‘had the voice of an angel’.

It was such an odd thought. Everyone had told him that he was some kind of musician, he used to work at a record shop, and he used to write all these amazing songs for his band to play. And yet he felt absolutely empty when it came to music now.

That was probably why he was hesitant when Pete kept pushing him to come down to the basement and pick up an instrument. Everyone had these expectations of him, that he was good at this kind of stuff, and yet as Pete handed him a guitar, the body felt unfamiliar and the only thing he really wanted to do was hand it back.

He was sitting on a stool, in the middle of this room that felt familiar, and it felt warm to Patrick. Like good things happened in this room, and he that once upon a time he was happy when he was here. He couldn’t tell what those things were, but the comforting atmosphere did provide some relief. Pete walked over and plugged the guitar into an amp, and came back with a pick. Unlike the guitar, the pick did fit perfectly in Patrick’s hand, and it found it’s place on the strings immediately.

“Can I try something?” Pete asked, picking his bass up and setting it up. “I’m gonna start playing some of our songs, and then if you remember, you come in with the notes, alright?”

“Do we have songs?”

“Just try.”

“Okay…”

Pete started. He started with the bass line, and smiled excitedly, but there was no input from his friend who seemed to only be listening. He tried again with the same song, and still nothing. Then with a different song. Nothing. This probably went for about half an hour (Pete had pretty much tried every song on the record) before he noticed Patrick’s knee bouncing in time with the beat.

“Okay, pass that back.” Pete took the guitar off him and put it away, before sitting him down at the drum kit. “Do you know what instrument this is?”

“Drums.” Patrick responded quickly, running his finger along the edge of the cymbal.

“Uh huh. And who plays drums?”

“Andy.” Patrick responded, again, not missing a beat.

“And?” Pete prompted with a smile.

“And what?”

“And who else plays drums?”

There was a moment of silence before realisation appeared visibly across Patrick’s face. “I do.”

“That’s right.” Pete grinned, running and grabbing his drumsticks. “These are yours.”

Patrick took them in his hands, and ran his hands over the wood. They felt familiar, and comfortable, and without even thinking he spun one of them around in his hands. “I, I think I know these.”

“Yeah? That’s good.” Pete smiled. “Those ones are your drumsticks.”

“Andy’s not allowed to play with them. These… these were expensive… I don’t, I didn’t like to share them.”

Pete grinned widely, and patted his friend on the shoulder. “That’s right buddy. You got this.”

“Are you gonna play and wait for me to come in again?” Patrick asked.

“No, I think it’s better if you just go freestyle.” Pete sat down on the stool in the middle of the room and watched his friend. He remembered the early days, when Patrick never wanted to sing at all. All he wanted was to sit at the back of the stage and hide behind the drum kit. This was the instrument he had known the longest, and was probably the one he was most confident in playing. That probably explained why he had a memory of the drumsticks, but Pete didn’t dare say anything. He didn’t want Patrick to feel he had expectations. He just wanted him to go at it in his own time.

Patrick stared at the drum kit for a good 10 minutes, unsure of what he was meant to do and where he was meant to start. Then his foot found the pedal of the bass drum, and then he felt his hands start moving. Consciously, he had no recollection of this. He truly had no idea what his hands were doing, what any of these drums were called, but his hands were moving and he was making music now. And Pete had this huge smile on his face, obviously overjoyed at what his friend was doing.

It was about a 10-minute drum solo, and by the time he was done, he was dripping in sweat, and had this little smile on his face, showing he was pleased as well with what he’d done. “T-That was pretty cool.”

Pete couldn’t stop smiling as he handed his friend a bottle of water (The basement was known to get extraordinary hot in the spring and summer, especially during band practice). “You did amazing, ‘Trick.”

“Thanks.” Patrick breathed, pouring the cool liquid down his throat. “Hang on, wait… does that mean that I play the drums in our band?”

“Not exactly.” Pete explained. “You were gonna be the drummer originally, but then we found out what an amazing singer you are and now you’re the singer and guitarist.”

“Am I good at singing?”

“You’re the best at singing.”

“Huh. Okay…” Patrick pondered that thought for a while. “So then what does Brendon do?”

“Brendon, Brendon, um…” Pete thought about it, but in the end just realised there was no good to come from lying to his best friend, and told the truth. “Brendon’s not a part of our band. He’s stepping in, because you had a little bit of trouble with singing for us for a while.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Patrick thought about it for a few moments, taking another sip of water. “Does that have anything to do with me going splat?”

Pete winced, and slowly turned around. “Um, well…. Yeah. It does.”

Patrick just nodded and looked down at his lap. “So, does that mean that I’m not the singer anymore? How long is Brendon gonna be around?”

“We don’t know, Patrick. If I can be honest here, I don’t want Brendon in the band. He’s not a part of it. It’s always been you, me, Joe and Andy, and it feels wrong to have someone else singing the lyrics and stuff.”

“Lyrics. They’re the words of the song, right?”

“Yeah.” Pete sat back down. “The reason a lot of people like our band is not just because our music sounds good, it’s because we try and make the lyrics mean something to ourselves and people. It just very special to the four of us, and it feels weird to have someone else doing it.”

“Huh.”

“So yeah, that’s why I’m a little bit funny about it.”

“I understand.” Patrick murmured.  
Pete gave a hesitant smile. “But hey, look, I’m gonna fight this tour for as long as I can, and y’know I don’t really think Brendon’s a bad guy or whatever, but I don’t wanna play   
with him. If we’re gonna play a Fall Out Boy show, then it should just be Fall Out Boy, don’t you think?”

“I still don’t understand the tour.” Patrick admitted. 

“It’s essentially 3 months on the road where we play a lot of concerts. And because your leg is hurt and your head is hurt, it’s not going to be good for you. There’ll be lots of stairs and you might fall, and you’re really not ready to travel the country in bus just yet. I think we just need to cancel the damn thing – they’ve pushed it back 3 times now, it should be clear that it’s not going ahead and the band just needs a break.”

“Right.” Patrick nodded. “Have we done a tour before?”

“Yeah, but none as big as this.”

“Did I enjoy it?”

“Um… I think you liked playing the shows, but not really the travelling and the going places and stuff. And this tour wouldn’t even have any of the stuff you liked, because you’d just be sitting at the back.”

“Sitting?”

“Yeah, your leg is broken?”

“It is?!” Patrick glanced down, and screamed in alarm, before falling off his stool.

Pete immediately ran over, and helped his friend up. Patrick was hyperventilating, and Pete offered water and sat with him on the floor while waiting for this sudden panic attack to pass. It didn’t take too long to pass, but for Patrick, it felt like an eternity. When did that happen? Why was his leg in a cast? Why couldn’t he remember it?!

“Shhh, shhh, don’t worry, it’s alright.” Pete assured, gently rubbing his back. “It’s not a big deal, everything’s okay, I’ve got you.”

“I-I-“ Patrick stammered, his eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Pete assured for a second time, putting his arms around his friend in a hug. “Shhh.”

“I f-forgot, Pete!” Patrick whispered with terror. “I forgot again and t-this isn’t, this isn’t a good thing!”

“It’s all gonna be fine, buddy.” Pete patted his back, hiding his own anxieties for the sake of his friend. “Don’t worry about it. Just deep breaths, alright?”

When deep breaths were taken and they got back upstairs, all Patrick wanted to do was go to bed and lie with his bears. Pete tucked him in, like a good friend, and told him that he’d feel a lot better when he woke up.

“Can you just stay?” Patrick asked, pulling the bears over and making a spare side of the bed. “I won’t make too much noise, I promise…”

Pete didn’t hesitate in kicking his shoes off and lying down beside him. Patrick snuggled right up, even going so far as to rest his head on Pete’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I keep forgetting things.”

“Don’t be sorry, Patrick.” Pete told him softly. “It’s not your fault, and you’re trying so, so hard. Nobody’s mad at you for not being able to remember stuff.”

“O-Okay.” He mumbled glumly, pulling one of the many bears to his chest. “Thank you for being nice to me.”

“It’s my pleasure, ‘Trick. Thank you for being my best friend.”

Patrick just blushed, and closed his eyes. “Thank you for being a really nice pillow.”

“For you, Patrick, I’ll be whatever you need.”


	25. the rest of us can find happiness in misery

Pete had been making a conscious effort to avoid talking to Patrick about the tour. It wasn’t something that his friend should have to worry about, on top of everything else. It was set to leave in 3 weeks, but Pete was still fighting his goddamn hardest to get it cancelled.

There was no way, in Pete’s opinion at least, that he was going to let his label take the man with a brain injury around the country in a bus. Patrick had bigger problems. Much bigger problems. And Pete certainly wasn’t taking the risk of Patrick being away from all the hospitals and doctors who had worked so closely on his case.  
There was clearly too much risk of something going wrong. The memory issues weren’t improving at the speed that the doctor had hoped for, and the fact that he was complaining of headaches (As well as regular pain in his chest from the broken ribs) didn’t help either. Patrick just needed more time to recover, and to hopefully get to the bottom of these issues.

It seemed to Pete that the label really didn’t see the issues, or that they were turning a blind eye. It was hard to fight, considering every time the label saw Patrick he was smiling and happy, and would talk excitedly about things like getting his cast removed and playing the drums again. They didn’t see what Pete saw on a day to day, and for the sake of profit, it was easier to just take a look at Patrick and give him approval, rather than actually read the medical reports and realise that this tour really wasn’t a grand idea.

But unfortunately progress was slow, and unfortunately Pete realised that the only way that the label was going to see how injured Patrick really was, was to sit down and attempt to have a conversation. Pete felt awful about the whole thing, but they wouldn’t listen to him. They had to see for themselves. Thus Pete had scheduled a meeting about the tour between Patrick and Bob, and Pete would just sit in to listen.

He’d only intervene if it was absolutely necessary.

“So, you understand what we’re doing today?” Pete asked, placing a plate of toast in front of his friend, who was trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle on the dining room table.

“Uh huh.” Patrick responded, clearly not paying attention. He was too busy trying to figure out how the pieces of the horse head fit together. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked for the 1000 piece version of this picture. The 500 probably would have been easier.

“Yeah, what’s that?” Pete asked, taking a seat beside him.

“We’re getting pizza with Andy and Joe.”

“Before that.”

“Getting X-rays done at the hospital.”

“Uh huh. And after that?”

“Do the groceries?”

“Before that.”

“We were gonna go visit the label people, right?”

“Yep.” Pete nodded. “Why are we doing that?”

“The tour… they want to see me about the tour.”

“Yep, exactly.” Pete nodded. “So you know I’m not gonna be talking in this meeting, right? It’s just gonna be you and Bob and Bob’s boss.”

Patrick immediately put his puzzle down and looked at his friend. “No, no, you have to come Pete. What if I forget something again?”

“You’ll be okay, they’ll understand.” Pete tried to convince, not only Patrick but himself as well. “I’ll sit in the back of the room, and if something goes really, really bad, then I’ll   
come in, okay?”

“But-”

“You’ve got this buddy.” Pete assured him. “I know you’re scared but you’re definitely capable of sitting through this meeting. You just have to give them the reasons about why you’re not going to tour.”

“Okay…” Patrick mumbled uncertainly. He didn’t exactly feel very confident about this meeting. It seemed everywhere he went now, he had Pete by his side, ready to quickly help if   
he forgot something or didn’t understand or took too long to respond. He needed Pete, he wasn’t sure if he was going to last very long without him.

“The doctor said that if your leg is healing well then you might be able to go from the cast to a boot today.” Pete changed the subject with a smile. “We’ll just have to see how the x-rays go. If it’s all healing in the right places and only needs a little bit of support, then you might be able to upgrade.”

“So no more cast?” Patrick asked.

“Just the plastic boot. It’ll be the same size as the cast, but you can walk on it and stuff.” Pete explained. “But don’t expect it, we gotta wait for what the x-rays say.”

“Oh, okay.” He nodded.

“Finish up your breakfast and we’ll get ready to go.” Pete told him, pushing the plate against his elbow (Patrick had since picked the puzzle back up). Begrudgingly, he did eat as requested, and Patrick went to shower and get ready while Pete did the dishes, before doing the same.

The hospital was the first stop, and as always, Patrick greeted his many friends on the way in. Doctors, nurses, reception staff, everyone knew him around here. He was always so happy to see them, and because of that, most were pretty happy to see him as well. Pete didn’t mind. It was better that he was comfortable here rather than terrified of it.

In fact, he was having such a good time that he didn’t even notice when his name was called. Pete essentially had to drag him into the office so they could actually get started.

“I was having a good time!” Patrick defended, pouting as he sat down on the bed in the doctor’s office.

Patrick’s doctor smiled at him warmly. “Well, let’s see if we can get this done quickly so you can go back to them. How does that sound?”

“Good…”

“Awesome. So we’re gonna start today, and I’m just gonna ask you a few questions and we’ll have a bit of a chat about your memory, and then we’ll move onto the x-ray, alright?”

“Can Pete help me if I don’t know the answers to the questions?” Patrick asked, growing visibly nervous at the thought. “He wasn’t allowed to at the last appointment and I didn’t know them all and it was really bad…”

Pete winced as well, thinking back. He’d been so startled and the doctor they were talking to really wasn’t being very patient with him. It had ended in tears, and the only way that Pete managed to make him feel better was to give him another turn at the drums.

The drums had become Patrick’s salvation. It was something that he’d reconnected his passion with, and Pete was sure that if he could get down those stairs on his own, then he’d be on them 24/7. He really did just love to sit there and bash away his emotions, and it was just good to see him being himself again. Sometimes he played something that sounded oddly familiar (Pete always did recognise when he was playing a Fall Out Boy song, and it always instilled hope within him) and sometimes he just played freestyle, but it was amazing to hear him play either way.

“Sorry Patrick, I just need your answers to these ones.” The doctor apologised. “But don’t worry if you can’t answer all of them, they’re not terrible important. Just a quick check up.”

He just looked down at his lap and nodded glumly.

Most of them were simple things that he could name quickly, like his name, his age, the current date, Pete’s name, his job, and etcetera. The ones that tripped him up were things like what he did at high school, how he broke his leg and how long he was in the hospital for. But the doctor did have to admit that he was making remarkable progress.

“So I’m getting better?” Patrick asked, swinging his legs back and forth.

“You’re getting better faster than we thought you would.” He explained with a smile.

“But that’s only today.” Pete had to admit. “The other day he forgot his leg was broken, and there was a bit of drama around that…”

Patrick went red in embarrassment, and the doctor frowned. “Well, that’s… unusual. Any other experiences like that?”

“We had some friends around the night he came home, and I explained we were gonna be having dinner and then band practice, but then completely forgot we were gonna have band practice.” Pete listed. “It’s just little things. Like he knows all the big things in his life, but the details are constantly slipping away.”

“I-I know details!” Patrick attempted to justify. “U-Um… the curtains in Pete’s bedroom are a dark grey!”

“They’re a blue-grey, but look, I figured it would be better to just bring it up.” Pete sighed.

“Okay, I’ll put it down, but I don’t think it’s a huge deal right now. It should recover in fair time.” The doctor typed some things into his computer. “Don’t worry too much, but if it’s still continuing in a few months’ time, then we’ll look at what we can do from there.”

That seemed to be the answer for everything, Pete decided, tight-lipped. It was always just a waiting game. Just wait and Patrick will wake up from his coma. Just wait and he’ll stop hallucinating. Just wait and he’ll remember who he is. Just wait and his leg will heal. Just wait and his memory will be fixed. It was annoying, just because he felt so helpless. He was getting desperate, he wanted to be able to give Patrick something, or take him somewhere, or just do something other than waiting around for him to get better, because it was killing him to see his best friend like this.

“Do you guys wanna come with me and we’ll get these x-rays done?”

“X-rays?” Patrick questioned.

“Uh huh, of your foot, remember?” Pete prompted, making eye contact with the doctor.

“Uh…” Even though Patrick had no idea what they were talking about, he could sense the fact that he was being tested here, and pretended to know anyway. “Yeah, of course. On   
my foot, yeah. Let’s go.” 

Pete sighed. “Alright. C’mon.”

The x-rays were common practice now, and Patrick was familiar with what to do. The whole process took under 10 minutes, and after waiting for the results, it was all good news. Off would go the cast, and on would go the plastic boot for another 2 months.

“Now, just because you can walk on it right now, doesn’t mean you should overexert it.” The doctor told Patrick sternly, getting ready with his cast saw. “Only short trips, use your crutches, make sure that it’s not carrying your full weight. If you overexert, then there’s the chance you’ll need it for a hell of a lot longer.”

“Okay…” Patrick mumbled, glancing at the cast saw and grabbing Pete’s arm in alarm. It was loud, it was spinning, and it was about to come into contact with Patrick’s leg. To say he was terrified would be fairly accurate, and clutched Pete’s arm against his chest tightly.

“It’s not going to hurt you, it’s got a dull blade, see?” The doctor held the saw against his own hand, revealing no damage. “It’s just gonna get the cast off and then it’ll be all over.”

Patrick had clenched his eyes shut and was humming under his breath as a distraction from the spinning wheel of death. The doctor called a nurse to help hold him still (If he jumped, there was a chance of injury), and began to saw.

Patrick cried during the procedure, despite Pete attempting to distract him with tales of the pizza they were getting for dinner (They were all going out to his old favourite pizza shop, and tonight was the all-you-can-eat buffet). But it was only a few minutes, and boom, the cast was off.

“There we go, all done!”

Patrick wiped his eyes and glanced at his leg, which was fairly swollen and funny-looking, but didn’t get a long look as the boot was fastened firmly onto his ankle. Pete helped him up and handed him his crutches, and before long the two were back in the car, on the way to the next thing on their list of errands.

“How’s it feel?” Pete asked, trying to make conversation.

“Weird.” Patrick mumbled, tapping his fingernails on the plastic edge. “I don’t know about it yet.”

“It’ll mean that you can get up the stairs by yourself.” Pete smiled at him. “So you can drum whenever you want.”

That was the only encouragement Patrick needed. He loved the boot already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for leaving this in a weird place, it was getting a little long and I've got some exciting drama planned soon. Thanks for all your support, it means the world to me <3


	26. remind me which side you should be on

The excitement of the cast removal didn’t last long, in fact it was completely gone by the time that they got to the label offices, both Pete and Patrick were remarkably nervous about the meeting to come. Patrick was mostly stressed about holding his own in the conversation, he was so scared about trailing off or forgetting something and just making himself out to be a fool without Pete there to catch him. Pete was nervous about letting Patrick sit this meeting on his own, and also about if Bob was gonna take advantage of his current state. 

“I-I’ve changed my mind. I don’t wanna meet.” Patrick stammered when Pete parked the car outside the building.

Pete sighed softly, and turned the car off, giving them a moment of silence. “It’s gonna be fine ‘Trick, I’m gonna be there, I’m just gonna be at the back, okay? IF something goes really, really bad, then I’m there. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

Patrick bit his lip. “What if he tries to talk about stuff that I don’t remember?”

“Then just tell him.” Pete rubbed Patrick’s shoulder comfortingly. “He knows about all the memory stuff, okay? He won’t mind. Just like I don’t.”

“Okay…” Patrick mumbled, clearly still unconvinced.

“Hey, look, this shouldn’t last very long, and then we’ll go do the groceries and maybe get some ice cream or something.” Pete tried to convince. “Please?”

Patrick sighed, and nodded glumly. “Promise you’ll come in if everything goes wrong?”

“I promise.” Pete told him.

The two headed inside, Patrick keeping his head down and Pete greeting all the reception staff and other artists with a warm smile. When they were finally called through to Bob’s office, Pete realised that this was not what he thought it was.

“Hey, Patrick.” Andy smiled, while Joe waved. “How are you going?”

“Um… good…” Patrick responded awkwardly, sitting down in the empty chair next to the desk. Joe and Andy were sitting on the same side of the desk, with Bob and several other men in suits sitting opposite. There was a spare chair next to Patrick, obviously meant for Pete.

“Isn’t this just a meeting for Patrick and you?” Pete asked Bob, his words laced with confusion and a little anger. Every time he tried to organise small, low-pressure meetings so Patrick could understand them, someone else always had to make it big and confusing and very one-sided.

“It was, but we did need to do a group meeting, and everything that I needed to say to Patrick I could say to all of you, so it just made more sense.” Bob smiled in reply. “Would either of you like a glass of water?”

“No.” Pete responded plainly, taking a seat next to his friend. It looked like his plans of letting Patrick speak for himself weren’t happening. Patrick already looked overwhelmed and discussions hadn’t even started yet.

“Hey, your cast’s off!” Joe smiled, trying to change the subject. “That’s awesome!”

“U-Um…” Patrick stammered nervously. “Yeah…”

“Let’s get started.” One of the men in suits told the band. Bob nodded and shuffled through some papers on the table, before handing a sheet of paper to each of the four men sitting in front of him. It was a list of dates, of their upcoming tour of course, with several crossed out and changed.

“Upon discussion with many venues and the board of directors…” Bob told Pete nervously. “We’ve made a few changes to our plans in order to accommodate your requests, so that you’ll tour.”

“What requests? My demand was that we don’t tour at all!” Pete defended, folding his arms. “Patrick needs more time.”

“And that’s why we have Brendon.” Bob explained. “Have a look at the dates. There’s no more than two in a row. In fact, we’ve worked it out so there’s never more than one night in a row in the bus. The dates have been adjusted to just make it a bit easier on you guys.”

“But the tour is longer.” Pete told him.

“Yes, that is an effect of making the shows further apart.”

“I’m not letting Patrick tour for a full 4 months.” Pete just shook his head. “No way. There is no way in hell that he’s gonna be away from his doctors for that long.”

“His cast has already come off. That was the biggest concern.” Andy entered the discussion. “If there’s any appointments that need to be done, we can find a doctor on the way. The internet means that medical records can be sent to anywhere in the country. It’s not as big as a problem as it used to be.”

“Not the doctors who know him and have worked on his case for the past few months!” Pete was getting angry. He was too busy yelling at Bob to notice Andy and Joe bringing out a stuffed bear, and promising it to Patrick if he agreed to come on tour.

“I think we should go.” Patrick suddenly blurted out.

“What?” Pete asked, glancing at his best friend. “’Trick, we’ve talked about this, we know it’s not a good idea.”

“I-I, Andy’s right, about the doctors…” He trailed off as he noticed everyone staring, and tried to gather his thoughts to continue. “A-And I don’t have the cast, and i-it would be fun to play the guitar a-and, and I really like hotels, a-and yeah.”

Bob smiled at Pete, and Pete scowled back at him, before addressing Patrick’s thoughts. “Remember when you blanked out the other day? What would happen if that happened in the middle of a show, or when you were far away from home and I couldn’t help you?”

“But wouldn’t you be there?” Patrick asked, puzzled. “Home is you, Pete. Wherever you are is home.”

“Awww.” Joe giggled.  
It was a very cute thing to say, and Pete’s heart did swell up with pride, but he didn’t show it. “Patrick, please be quiet.”

“Why should he have to be quiet?” Andy asked. “All you’ve done since he’s woken up is wrap him in bubble wrap and not let him have a say in anything! He’s perfectly able to speak for himself and make his own decisions!”

“I-I-“ Patrick immediately paled.

“He’s got a serious traumatic brain injury!” Pete yelled. “The guy was in a fucking coma for three weeks and all of you just wanna carry on as if everything’s fine, and it is clearly not fine! Patrick, tell me, what was the name of the high school you went to, huh? What’s the name of our band’s first ever record? What’s your home address? What type of car do you drive?”

Patrick knew none of those things, and he knew that Pete knew that he knew none of those things. It wasn’t a good feeling, and he tried to blink away the tears that welled in his eyes. Maybe he wasn’t ready to tour. He was just too dumb, he didn’t have a good enough memory.

“Oh, shit…” Pete muttered, realising what he’d just done. “Patrick, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry buddy, I didn’t mean to do that, oh shit…”

Andy gently rubbed Patrick’s shoulder, and shook his head at Pete, who could only concentrate on how guilty he felt.

“Pete, we can’t make you two tour.” Bob explained with a long sigh. “But there’s something to be said for the 30,000 people who bought tickets to your shows. That’s a lot of people who really wanna see you play live.”

“Thirty THOUSAND?” Patrick asked, looking up. “That’s like… a lot of people.”

“Uh huh.” Bob nodded. “They’ve wanted to see you guys play for a long time, we had to suspend the tour a couple of times, and we can’t postpone it again with cancelling on them.”

“I don’t, I don’t wanna let anyone down!” Patrick turned around on his chair, ignoring his feelings of inadequacy. “We have to go. I’m going!”

Pete probably wouldn’t have agreed, if that wasn’t such a Patrick Stump thing to say. That was something that was such a big part of his personality, wanting to make sure that everyone was happy. All he wanted in life was to bring joy to others, and Pete wasn’t going to stand in the way of that. Especially not while he felt so awful for yelling at his best friend like that.

“Fuck.” He muttered. “I guess we’re going on tour.”


	27. we're the beginning of the end

After quickly getting names and details for the tour hotels and all that, it was time to go out for pizza to celebrate. Patrick went in Andy’s car, still not exactly on ideal terms with Pete after the whole ‘naming everything he can’t remember and making him look bad’ ordeal. Patrick didn’t remember everything, but he did remember that Pete had never done anything like that before. He always was by Patrick’s side, not pointing him out and making fun of his flaws. Andy hadn’t done anything like that. Andy gave him a bear and let him come in his car on the way to go get pizza.

“We just gotta pick Brendon up on the way, alright?”

“Y-Yeah, that’s okay…” He mumbled, pulling the bear on his lap a little bit closer. “It’s okay.”

“Okay.” Andy laughed a little, trying to make this car ride a little lighter in mood. “Are you excited for pizza?”

“Uh…” What pizza?

“It’s all you can eat tonight.” He grinned. “So we can totally go nuts and stuff.”

“Okay…” Patrick mumbled uncomfortably.

Andy sensed his hesitation to converse, and turned the radio on to mask the silence until they got to Brendon’s house. Brendon jumped in and Andy greeted him with a smile and a high-five. “B-den! How’s it going?”

“Pretty great. I got the call from Joe. We’re touring!” He cheered.

“You were right. The bear worked a treat.” Andy laughed, patting Patrick’s shoulder in a less-than-kind way. Patrick began to feel very uncomfortable and wished he’d just gone with Pete. Pete had apologised already, but this environment felt quite derogatory and he really wished he wasn’t here right now.

“I knew it would.” Brendon grinned. “Did you like my choice, Patrick? I thought the blue bow was really something that would appeal to you.”

Patrick didn’t respond. He kept his head down. It was true, he did like the blue bow, but the way that Brendon was saying it was the same way that his siblings used to tease him about his interests when he was a child. He remember any exact events, but he did remember the feelings he got from being bullied, and he really felt like all those feelings were coming back right now.

By the time that they got to the pizza restaurant, Patrick was the first out of the car and tried to find his way to Pete. Sure enough, Pete was inside, already sitting at the table and looking unamused. Patrick just hurried over as fast as his crutches would carry him and wrapped his best friend in a hug. “I m-missed you.”

Pete was taken by surprise. He thought Patrick was mad at him, after all, that’s why he hadn’t come with him on the drive to the pizza restaurant. But he didn’t dare bring that up, and hugged Patrick back. “I missed you too, ‘Trick. Was the drive here okay?”

“I s-should’ve come with you.” Patrick mumbled into Pete’s shoulder.

“Did something happen?” Pete asked, clenching his fist.

“U-Uh, um…” Patrick bit his lip nervously, which was fast becoming a bit of a sign to Pete about when Patrick was having a mind blank.

“Okay… that’s alright. Sit here next to me and I’ll talk to Andy about it later. Hey, where’d you get the bear from?”

“Andy gave it to me.” He mumbled, sitting down and setting it on his lap.

“That was nice of him.” Pete smiled.

“U-Um… yeah…” Patrick just held his head down, and tried to remember why he disagreed with that statement.

The rest of the band plus Brendon soon arrived at the table, and they started with the all-you-can-eat pizza buffet. Pete ate way more than he should have (the man loved pizza, and this restaurant was pretty much his dream), but Patrick hardly picked at his slices. He didn’t want to be here. Not only could he hardly keep up with the conversation that the other four men were having, he still felt that stupid feeling that he got in the car.

Joe raised his soda can to the middle of the table. “A toast. To the best tour Fall Out Boy is ever gonna do!”

“Here here!” Brendon raised his can as well, and as did everyone else. They all tapped their drinks together, and took a sip.

“We should go out to the club.” Joe laughed. “To celebrate!”

“The club? Seriously?” Pete asked. “We’re adults now.”

“That’s why we’ll go to an ~adult~ club.” He wiggled his eyebrows, before bursting out laughing. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But seriously, let’s go find a bar or something and have a beer or two.”

“That sounds good…” Patrick mumbled, near silent.

“Look, we might just go home.” Pete sighed. “It’s been a long day.”

“Can we go to my house?” Patrick asked out of nowhere, surprising everyone at the table. “I, I think I have some beers still in the fridge, and it’ll be a good place to celebrate, a-and, yeah…”

“Let’s do it!” Brendon grinned. 

“To Patrick’s house!” Joe nodded.

“Guys, I don’t know…” Pete tried to interrupt, but was overpowered by Andy shouting everyone’s pizza.

“Did I say the wrong thing?” Patrick whispered. “I, I was trying to be a part of the group.”

Pete sighed. “You didn’t say the wrong thing. I’m just a little worried. You haven’t been to your house in… nearly 3 months now.”

“Really? That’s… a long time.” He played with his lip. “I think there’s some beer, but I don’t know…”

“We’ll go first and go to the bottle shop on the way.” Pete exhaled slowly, getting to his feet. It wasn’t exactly a good idea, but he could tell that Patrick was just trying to prove himself. If it was going to help his best friend feel a little better about who he was, then he was going to do everything he could to help.

“Thank you, Pete.” Patrick smiled.

“That’s alright. C’mon, we gotta be quick.”

They went through the liquor store, and picked up a case of beer, before going over to Patrick’s place. It felt weird to be back, for both of them. Especially for Patrick himself however, who didn’t remember this place in the slightest.

“So this is it?” He asked, staring at his front door.

“Uh huh.” Pete nodded, digging through his keys to find the one that opened Patrick’s door. “Here you go.”

He jammed the key in the door and slowly pushed it open, letting his fingers find the familiar spot of the light switch. It was a bit dusty, but generally tidy, and he took a moment to walk around the space.

Pete just quickly started stocking the fridge with the beer, so that the guys wouldn’t notice it was new when they arrived. “Familiar?”

“Just a little bit.” Patrick responded, picking up the TV remote and analysing which buttons had the most paint worn off. “I know I used to watch a lot of TV here, and I know that if I go this way…” He headed down the corridor and opened the door to the office. “This is where I like to play instruments and stuff.”

Pete smiled. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Why do I have so many guitars?” 

“You like them.”

“Okay…” Patrick flicked the light on, and analysed his wall of guitars, before pulling one down and putting the strap over his shoulder. “This one…. I remember this one.”

Pete appeared at the door and smiled. “Yeah, that one was your favourite.”

“And the picks… I keep them… in here.” He grabbed one from his drawer, and plugged his guitar in to begin playing. “And this is where I write songs sometimes…”

“Uh huh, that’s right.”

He was about to start playing when the door burst open and the other band members came in. Patrick had to quickly put his instrument away and start playing good host, despite the fact that they’d already gotten to the beer by the time he got out there. Brendon opened another one and handed it straight to him before Pete could intervene.

“T-Thank you.” Patrick stammered, obviously surprised.

“Just the one, okay?” Pete told him nervously. “The rest of these guys might get a bit stupid but it’s not a good idea.”

“Patrick! You’ve been holding out on us!” Joe laughed, opening the liquor cabinet and pulling out a vodka bottle. “Where do you keep the shot glasses?!”

“T-Top cabinet on the right?” Patrick answered, surprised he knew that.

Before he knew it, a line of shots was being lined up on the kitchen bench. Pete gently took Patrick’s hand and held him back while everyone else took part. It was clear that Fall Out Boy was getting very drunk tonight, with the exception of Pete and Patrick.

“Can we leave?” Patrick asked.

“Buddy, this is your place. We gotta wait for them to leave first.” Pete answered unsurely. “But we can call them a cab.”

“Alright…”

“Hey guys, do you wanna go out to the club? There’s not a whole lot here, and besides, you’re celebrating!” Pete joined the festivities to convince them. “Call and cab and let’s go!”

“But Patrick’s got good booze! And it’s free!”

“Yeah, but you’re not exactly gonna meet any girls here, are you?” Pete asked, a cheeky glint in his eye. “You should head to Valentino’s.”

And thankfully, that was all it took. Within the hour they were off to the club, and Patrick sat down on his couch, staring at his beer. “I don’t k-know why, but I feel bad about having this, Pete.”

Pete sighed. “Yeah, you had a little problem with drinking too much for a while. Before you went splat.”

“Huh. Okay.” Patrick took another sip. “I, I think I remember that. I used to watch a lot of house hunters, right?”

“Yeah.” Pete sighed. “It wasn’t always pretty.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means that sometimes I had to bring you back to my house because you got really, really drunk and I was worried about you getting sick and not having anyone to look after   
you.”

“Huh.” Patrick was silent for a few minutes more. “Maybe I was getting drunk because I liked it when you took care of me. I like being at your house. It’s home. More home than this place.”

That revelation hit Pete like a tonne of bricks, and he didn’t have any words to respond at first. Or at second. Or for a few minutes after.

Patrick just shrugged. “Or maybe I was just sad. I don’t know. Can we go back to your house now?”

“Yeah, of course buddy.” Pete got up and helped him clean before the two headed out to the car. Patrick was just relieved to be out of there, that house represented bad times, and although he didn’t remember exact events, he knew that he didn’t like being there alone a whole lot. It was too empty, and he always did the wrong thing or felt really lonely.

Patrick slept in Pete’s bed that night.


	28. may nothing but death do us part

When it came time to pack for tour, there were two moods that hung in the air. The first was one of excitement, the element of doing some amazing and going to travel the country. The second was one of fear and anxiety. Pete felt that in regards to Patrick’s health and wellbeing, whereas Patrick just felt it in regards to Brendon and Joe and Andy. He knew that in the back of his mind he loved his friends, but the way that they were talking about him and treating him now felt weird.

He just hoped that he wouldn’t be alone with them a whole lot and Pete could protect him. Pete was good at that.

“Nearly done?” Pete asked, leaning on Patrick’s doorframe, the day before they were set to leave on tour. “Do you need to put another load of washing on?”

“Everything’s clean, I think I’m good there.” Patrick responded, packing another bear into his suitcase. Pete had told him to only bring 3 at maximum, but he had so many, and they’d all be so lonely if he only brought 3. Plus how was he meant to pick favourites? So they all had to come, obviously.

“We’re gonna need another bus just to carry all your bears, ‘Trick.” Pete laughed.

“They all have to come.” Patrick told him defensively. “All of them.”

“You have like 10, dude. You don’t need 10 on tour with you.”

“All of them.” He repeated sternly.

“Alright, but if they get lost or left behind, it’s not my fault.” Pete told him. “I’m gonna make lunch, what do you feel like?”

“I’m not all that hungry.” Patrick responded, sitting down on the edge of the bed, before sighing. “Pete, I don’t want to tour.”

“Hmm? What’s going on buddy?” Pete quickly moved over and sat beside him.

“I, I’m just a bit worried, what if I blank out on stage or something?” He sounded very nervous, and Pete grabbed his hand for comfort. “I mean… what if the people get mad at me because I’m not singing like I used to? A-And what if they like Brendon more?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Like… Brendon is younger, a-and he has a prettier face… and Andy and Joe like him more a-and what if everyone just likes him s-so much that they don’t want me to be a part of the band anymore? I remember, I’ve started remembering writing songs and stuff… and I dunno… it’s l-like I’ve been pushed to the back and they’re o-only dragging me on tour because you want me to come.”

“Oh, Patrick…” Pete took a deep breath. “Everyone wants you to come on tour, not just him. You’re a part of the band, we wouldn’t tour without you.”

He paused a moment, thinking about Andy’s serious proposal to tour without Patrick, but pushed the thought from his mind and continued his uplifting speech.

“You’re probably the most important member of our band. We wouldn’t be able to do what we do without you, ‘Trick. And I’ll have you know, I think you’re much prettier than Brendon.”

Patrick’s cheeks flushed pink and Pete giggled. “We’ll be fine, ‘Trick. We’re just gonna play some music and stay in some hotels, and hopefully everything will go fine.”

“You won’t leave me alone with the other guys, right?” Patrick asked, glancing at their hands, which were still together. “I don’t… I don’t like being alone with them.”

“I’ll try not to?” Pete tried. “I mean, there might be some times, but if you ever feel uncomfortable or whatever, just come and see me and I’ll sort it out. Besides, we have a lot of days off on this tour, so we’ll probably not see them around a whole heap.”

“Alright….” He mumbled. “Can you help me finish packing?”

“Course, buddy.”

\----------

Moving into the bus was an exciting and nervous time, just like packing, but this time it felt real. All of the instrument cases were being packed under the bus, all of the bags were being packed away, and Brendon had introduced his boyfriend, Ryan, who would be their security guard and coming with them.

It did surprise Pete that this was who the label had hired, considering the guy was remarkably small and meek, but he didn’t argue. He seemed nice enough, and surprisingly had really hit it off with Patrick within 5 minutes of meeting him.

Anyone who treated Patrick with respect got a gold star in Pete’s book.

They set up in their bunks, with Pete’s being on the top right, Patrick in the middle right and Andy on the bottom. Opposite was Brendon in the top bunk, Joe in the middle, and Ryan on the bottom. Most had put up a couple of pictures, and Patrick had lined the back of his bunk with his collection of bears. Nobody said anything about it, at least not while Pete was there.

“Hey guys! There’s a playstation!” Brendon whooped from the back of the bus, sitting down on the couch and grabbing a controller. “Sweet!”

“I… I don’t think this is very comfortable.” Patrick mumbled, lying in his bunk. Lying with his cast on, it hardly fit and with his ankle resting on the mattress, his toes brushed the bottom of the bunk above him.

“The couch is long enough to be a bed.” Ryan suggested. “At night, at least, that might be a better option.”

“Okay… cool.” Patrick nodded, trying to shimmy out from where he was currently lying. “How long is this tour gonna go?”

“Four months.”

“Oh.”

“We’ll stay in a lot of hotels, don’t stress ‘Trick.” Pete assured. “Do you want some candy or something? I have heaps.”

“Yeah, okay…”

With the bunks being in the middle of the bus, it became clear that there were going to be two groups of people and two zones where the two groups would sit. Andy, Joe and Brendon sat up the back in the lounge, playing playstation and watching TV, whereas Patrick, Pete and Ryan had taken the dining table at the front of the bus, where they had the best access to the fridge and the second TV.

It was easier that way. Brendon didn't have to deal with Patrick, who, although he couldn't verbalize it to the band that was paying him, he found incredibly annoying. Andy and Joe got to sit back and just enjoy the light-hearted excited tour that they wanted in the first place without Pete nagging them to slow down or stop doing certain things for Patrick's sake. Patrick just liked being at the front of the bus because it meant that he didn't have to sit with Brendon, Joe and Andy. He knew that Joe and Andy were his friends, but he didn't like the way that they treated him when Brendon was around. Pete just wanted to stay with his best friend, and Ryan was just happy to sit quietly and make some new friends.

And still sitting at opposite ends of the bus with their groups, the wheels on the Fall Out Boy bus started moving, and tour began.


	29. even at the best of times im out of my mind

The first show was a small one, but that didn’t do anything to dim the excitement of the band. It was visible on the bus, it was visible during lunch, and it was certainly visible during sound check.

Brendon bounced around the stage, his microphone in his hand, and at one point was back flipping off the drum kit. Joe was bouncing around too, and Andy was going pretty wild during his warm ups. Patrick was just given a tiny little stool at the back of the stage to sit on and play guitar.

“Guys, you gotta let him sit a little more forward than that.” Pete told the production team disapprovingly. “Nobody’s gonna see him there.”

“This is where we were told to set it up.” One of the guys shrugged, pulling the cable for the guitar through the stage. “Apparently this way if he passes out then it’ll be easy to get him off.”

Pete huffed in frustration, and pulled the stool forward anyway. “Here. This is a good spot. Far enough back to get off easily, but far enough forward so that the crowd is actually gonna be able to see him play. He’s a damn important part of this band.”

The production team didn’t argue, and began adjusting the stage lights and for the new configuration. Pete grabbed his bass and ran through his usual checks, finding his usual spot on the stage and playing to the empty room. It was an exciting though to think about how filled up it would be after everyone arrived. He’d been so caught up with all the Patrick drama recently that he’d forgotten how much he loved playing shows.

He found himself getting really damn excited.

Meanwhile, Patrick had gone offstage and was making his way back to the bus. They didn’t really need him at sound check, Brendon had done the guitar stuff before he’d even arrived, but Pete had dragged him along because he ‘was a part of the band’. Now he’d finally been given the thumbs up to head back, and headed back to the bus.

It was probably the fact that he was incredibly slow on his crutches, but Brendon arrived not long after he did, and made his way onto the bus. It was something about the way he moved, but he always seemed to be so loud. His feet always had that little bit more ~oomph~ to them, and he always seemed to take up all the attention.

Patrick was sitting on the lounge in the bus, after grabbing a can of soda from the fridge. He popped the top and was about to take a sip, when Brendon’s hand grabbed the top and quickly pulled it away. The taller man quickly chugged about half the can, before burping loudly and giving Patrick a not-so-kind smile. “Thanks, Pat.”

Patrick winced slightly. “D-Don’t call me that…”

“Call you what? Pat?” Brendon laughed to himself. “That’s your name, dude. You can’t tell me not to call you by your name.”

“I-It’s my mother’s name.” Patrick frowned, getting up to get another can of soda for himself. “I-I’m Pat-Trick.”

“Well, Pat, look, it might be your Mom’s name, but it’s your name too. Hey, thanks for that, I’ll run it down to Andy.” Brendon grabbed the second can of soda from Patrick’s hands and made his way to the other end of the bus where Andy had just paused the playstation and headed to the bathroom..

Patrick huffed. He only bought 2 cans when he walked down to the corner store earlier. That was his damn soda, and he was going to get it back. He grabbed his crutches, walked down the other end of the bus, and folded his arms in a way he hoped was tough. “T-That’s my soda.”

“What, this one?” Brendon held it up.

“Yes.” He answered, reaching out for it.

Brendon just popped the lid, and poured the entire contents of it down his throat before handing Patrick an empty can. Patrick stared at it, then up at Brendon, then down at the can again in confusion. Brendon just laughed at his reaction. “What, did you forget that it was my soda?”

Did he? Was this Brendon’s soda? Did he already drink his soda and had he already forgotten drinking it? The entire thought made his head spin.

“D-Did I?” He whispered nervously.

“Uh huh. You drank all of yours, and then one of mine too. You owe me one. The 7Eleven is right around the corner, you wanna run and grab me another one to fix your debt?”

Patrick wasn’t sure that Brendon was entirely correct, but he also knew he couldn’t prove him wrong. Patrick had been experiencing more and more blanks recently, it was probable that he forgot drinking all that soda. So he grabbed his wallet, disposed of the empty can, and went and bought a six-pack for the fridge.

“Thanks Pat!” Brendon grinned when he got back, taking two from the plastic and handing one to Andy. Patrick put the rest away, and just headed back down to ‘his’ end of the bus to avoid the discussion any longer.

\---------------

Showtime. Normally in a Fall Out Boy dressing room, it was Patrick doing his vocal warm ups in front of the mirror, but tonight Patrick was silent. He just sat in the corner, watching Pete play on his old game boy, while Brendon jumped around and filled the air with show tunes.

Part of Patrick wanted to join in, but he was more than a little scared of what Brendon would say if he did.

Eventually, they were all led around to the side of the stage and handed their instruments. Except for Patrick, he had a stage hand who would carry his on, and hand it to him once he got on his stool. Pete could hear the roar of the crowd, and the adrenaline started pumping through his veins. This was it. This was his tour. He was going to get out there, and shine.

So he did. He ran out, and screamed out to the crowd, and played every note to perfection. Brendon belted out the lyrics, and Joe went hard on his guitar. Andy bashed the drums with a little more oomph than usual.

Patrick sat in the darkest corner of the stage, far away from the spotlight, and quietly played along, unable to see the crowd. The crowd couldn’t see him either.

It was like he wasn’t there at all.


	30. when you wake up the world will come around

Patrick couldn’t sleep.

Everyone else in this bus was asleep. All he could hear from the bunks was snoring. Patrick, unable to fit comfortably in his bunk with the boot still adorning his foot, found himself on the couch down the far end of the bus. It was a mess down this end from when Andy, Joe, and Brendon had had a little party after the show, and Patrick was just surrounded by empty beer cans and empty chip packets. It was a little bit gross, but it was hard to clean when you were dependent on crutches, and as such he’d just pushed it all to a far corner and tried to make a bed out of the cleanest spot.

It wasn’t very comfortable. The couch seemed to have some sort of plastic filling, judging by the loud crinkling that came from every slight movement. It was cold in this end of the bus, and the blanket was too thin to provide reasonable warmth. Not to mention it was too short as well, and Patrick’s little toes peeped out the bottom every time he tried to pull the blanket up to cover his arms.

Not to mention he didn’t have Pete sleeping next to him, like he’d become accustomed to.

It really wasn’t an ideal setup. He drifted off a couple of times, but the loud couch or the cold air would bring him back to consciousness after a short nap. By the time the sun rose and everyone else was getting up for the day, Patrick calculated he’d probably had, in total, about 2 and a half hours sleep.

The plan for the day was to go out to breakfast, then back on the bus for a drive to the next city. Then they had a night off, and a hotel to sleep in as well. Hopefully that meant Patrick would get some proper sleep, because it was clearly affecting everything about him when he dragged himself to breakfast.

“Hey, buddy, you’re not looking too good today.” Pete told him on the walk to the nearby café. “Is everything okay?”

“Tired.” Patrick mumbled half-heartedly, not paying much attention to his friend. He was just trying to focus on staying upright. For some reason he felt really dizzy today, and was relying heavily on his crutches to avoid falling.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Pete nodded, returning to silence for a moment before piping up again. “You didn’t have anything to drink last night, right?”

“N-No drinks. Doctor said no drinks.” Patrick felt his eyelids drooping and had to stop for a moment to regain his balance. Pete immediately panicked and grabbed Patrick’s arm.

“Hey, if this is a bit hard, we can just go back to the bus and have some cereal, hey?” He offered. “Patrick? Patrick, buddy, look at me. No, up at me.”

Patrick was trying, but the world was spinning and looking up only made it worse.

“Hey! Guys! Wait a second! Patrick’s not okay!” Pete called out to the rest of the band, who were charging ahead, before quickly rushing Patrick to a seat nearby. 

“Is he ever alright?” Brendon scowled, adjusting his sunglasses. “Some of us need our coffee.”

“Wait a damn second!” Pete snarled back angrily, before returning his attention to Patrick. “Hey, buddy, what’s going on? Is it a blank or are you not feeling good, or what’s up?

Patrick was staring down at his hands, trying to remember where he was, and where he was going. “P-Pete…”

“Uh huh, I’m here.” Pete gently grabbed his hand. “What’s up?”

He clenched his eyes shut, and opened them again. “I-I’m tired, a-and hungry… w-where are we?”

“We’re on tour, remember? We were just going for a walk to get some breakfast. Do you wanna keep going, or do you wanna head back and just have some cereal?”

Brendon groaned and threw his hands in the air. “I’ll meet the rest of you guys there. I’ll order group coffee.”

“Keep going.” Patrick mumbled, grabbing his crutches and pulling himself up. He didn’t exactly understand what Pete meant, but the coffee sounded good, and hopefully all he needed was some coffee and a good meal to feel more like himself again. Then maybe after he might be able to have a nap somewhere.

“You sure?” Pete placed a hand on his back and stayed close for the rest of the walk, ready to catch him if he fell. 

They arrived at the café in one piece, and Patrick mostly stayed quiet during breakfast. He didn’t feel confident adding to whatever the conversation was, he was a bit out of it, and knew that he very much ran the risk of saying the complete wrong thing and Brendon would probably laugh at him.

Despite his best efforts though, he was victim to that exact thing. Pete asked what he wanted to eat, and Patrick for the life of him couldn’t remember the word for ‘toast’. Brendon just found it hilarious when he asked for crunchy fire bread, and then because Brendon was laughing, Joe and Andy started laughing too, and Patrick just had to look down at his lap and pretend he didn’t mind.

It was a funny thing to say, and if it was something he said purposely, then he probably would have laughed along as well. But because they were laughing at the fact that he had to make up a word because he couldn’t remember the word for something he ate nearly every day made him feel incredibly self-conscious and embarrassed. Pete just gave Brendon and the other guys a dirty look and went to order.

The coffee was good, and with the caffeine going through his veins, Patrick began to wake up a little more and take notice of his surroundings. Pete came back with a number and studied his friend’s face for a few moments. “How much sleep did you have last night?”

“U-Um…” Patrick thought it about it, drawing a blank again. “U-Um… not a l-lot?”

“Yeah, I can tell. The couch wasn’t very comfortable?”

“N-No. A-and it was cold.” Patrick pulled his sweater down over his hands to warm them up. Even thinking about his spot near the air vent made him shiver.

“We’ll get another blanket before the next night.” Pete assured him. “And hopefully we can squeeze in a nap this afternoon at the hotel. That sound good?”

“Yeah…”

“Okay, cool. Just let me know if you need anything, okay?”

He couldn’t help it, Patrick felt so incredibly needy at this point. Everyone else could just get on the damn bus and sleep in the bunks and didn’t need crutches. They didn’t need extra help because they kept forgetting things all the damn time. But this wasn’t the time nor place to have the conversation, and he just kept his head down.

The crunchy fire bread helped a little too, and Patrick walked back to the bus without any problems. He did forget where he was about six times on the bus ride to the next city, but only Pete was keeping tally of that. Generally he was feeling okay, besides the blanks.

The label had booked them separate hotel rooms, but Patrick’s went unused. He just put one arm around Pete, and the two laid down in the bed for a nap. Pete seemed worried about him as he mumbled about wanting more bears, but Patrick was too tired to care. 

All he cared about was the bed, the bear under his arm, and Pete. He had all three in that moment, and that meant that he was happy as he drifted off to sleep.


	31. its just a matter of time until we're all found out

Another day, another city, another show. Tour continued in the same way it started, with Patrick sitting at the back of the stage and playing guitar while the rest of the band played on the edge of it. They were two weeks in now, and Patrick was starting to count down the days until he could go home.

There were a lot of things that he really loved about the tour. He loved all the hotel rooms, spending more time with Pete, and the shows weren’t all that bad. He liked to play his music, and he was making good friends with Ryan too. But there were a lot of things that he didn’t like. Despite Pete getting him an inflatable mattress and a really big new blanket, nights in the bus were cold and lonely. He still couldn’t remember a whole lot, and he found himself having more and more blanks than he ever remembered having.

He was actually quite thankful to Brendon for pointing them out. He was constantly forgetting all the things he was doing, like going to get milkshakes for the whole band, and it was a real relief to have someone who always kept tabs on him and ensured he remembered what he was doing.

The band had a lot of milkshakes.

Pete pointed out only a couple of blanks, but they were about boring things like what Patrick had done earlier that morning or what he’d had for breakfast. The ones that Brendon pointed out were more exciting, like the fact that Patrick had forgotten that he was going to host the after party in his hotel room tonight and needed to go out and buy the alcohol.

Brendon was such a good friend. What would he have done when everyone showed up at his apartment and he forgot that he was the one hosting the party?

The morning of, Patrick was lying on Pete’s bed (he never slept in his own hotel room, it was lonely there. It felt wrong when he wasn’t sharing a bed with Pete) and staring at the ceiling. “Was there anything else I needed for tonight?”

“Huh?” Pete asked, drying his hair with a towel in the bathroom. “No, you don’t need anything for the show. You’ll be fine.”

“No, no, for the party, remember?” Patrick glanced over at his shirtless friend. “I’m hosting the after party tonight. Brendon explained that I told everyone at breakfast yesterday.”

“What? No, you didn’t do that at breakfast.” Pete glanced over at Patrick with a slight frown. “I was with you the whole time, and I can guarantee you that you never said that.”

“Oh.”

“What did you do?”

“Well… I was in the bus last night, grabbing my bears, and then Brendon came up and asked me if I had gotten the alcohol for the party yet… and then I was confused and he told me that I’d forgotten that I was hosting the after party tonight and then I, I realised I must’ve forgotten I said that…”

Pete was gripping his hand in a tight fist, and Patrick’s face fell. “I’m sorry…”

“No, this isn’t your fault.” Pete grabbed a shirt and quickly pulled it on, before shoving his shoes on angrily. “C’mon, we’re going to visit your good friend Brendon.”

Brendon’s room was down the hall, and Pete stormed down there and pounded on the door. “Open up, Asshole!”

That surprised Patrick a whole lot, and he hesitantly took a step back from angry Pete. He hadn’t seen Pete this angry since that meeting about going on tour when Andy had given him that bear.

When there was no response, Pete grunted and pounded again. “I know you’re in there! Get the fuck out here Brendon!”

Brendon opened the door eventually, looking confused, and gave Patrick a wave before addressing angry Pete. “Can I, help you?”

“Yes, asshole, I think you can!” Pete yelled, and Patrick flinched. “Let’s have a little chat about you ‘reminding’ Patrick about the things he’s forgotten.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.” Brendon chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “He told me that he wanted to host the after party. So I helped him.”

“No, he did not! I’ve been with him for every second of yesterday, and he did not at any point bring that up!” Pete pulled Brendon out into the hall. “So listen here. I’ve had more than enough of you pushing Patrick around. He’s putting in so much fucking effort to be here and he doesn’t need your stupidity and arrogance. You’ve done nothing but push him around since this tour started and he doesn’t need it. How would you feel if you were shoved on a fucking bus and driven around the country with a traumatic brain injury?!”

Brendon didn’t respond, and Pete huffed. “Patrick, did you go and buy the drinks for the party?”

“U-Uh, yeah…”

“Okay. So you’re gonna pay him back.” Pete turned to Brendon and crossed his arms. “Right now.”

“But I already did.” Brendon gave a cold smile. “Remember, Patrick? I helped you carry it up the stairs to your room and then I gave you the cash for it, because I know you don’t drink.”

Pete turned to Patrick. “Is this true?”

“I-I-I-“ Patrick stammered, looking down at his feet. “I-I-, I don’t, I d-don’t know, Pete…”

Brendon laughed. Pete snarled and turned back around. “Pay him again. I don’t care if you did it before. Pay. Him. Again.”

“But I already did. I gave him the cash earlier. See, Patrick, check your wallet, there should be the money in there.”

Patrick opened his wallet. Within it was about $5 and 36 cents.

“Paid him back, huh?”

“Uh huh.”

“Did you keep your receipt, Patrick?” Pete asked.

“I-I-I-“

Pete led them on a walk down to Patrick’s room, and sitting inside it was a case of beer, a bottle of red label, a bottle of Jack Daniels, and one bottle of soda. 

“I think that’s worth quite a bit more than 5 bucks, Brendon.” Pete told him. “Pay up.”

“I already did. I don’t know what he spent it on.”

“He doesn’t remember you paying him back, so you’re going to pay him back.”

“But he doesn’t remember me not paying him back either.” Brendon’s cold smile reappeared. “Innocent until proven guilty.”

“You’re not the judge here, and this isn’t a fucking jury, Brendon!” Pete yelled. “Show some fucking respect and pay the guy back for your manipulations!”

Brendon sighed and opened a wallet, flicking a 20 at Patrick (who couldn’t catch it and had to scramble around on the floor for it). “This is a gesture of goodwill. Goodnight, asshole.”

And with that, Brendon turned on his heels, and walked out of the room. But not after kicking Patrick’s crutches away from him while he was on the floor to grab the money. Brendon Urie wasn’t going to lose a retarded idiot who didn’t know any better than to do what he was told.


	32. if home is where the heart is then we're all just fucked

Brendon didn’t inform Patrick of any more of his blanks for at least a week after Pete went mental on him. It was only when they reached LA, and Pete was at a radio interview that Brendon had another opportunity.

Patrick was sitting down his end of the bus, sitting on his computer and fiddling around with his mixing software. On the road, it was something he found to be a really good use of time. While all the others were playing video games or watching TV or anything like that, Patrick was working. He’d went and gotten a new pair of headphones, and sat in his spot to mix during pretty much any free time they had.

He’d made some pretty cool demos, and at one point had sat down and played them to Andy and Joe, who had really loved them as well. He found it very gratifying work, considering that on this tour he really wasn’t all that necessary. It gave him purpose, and a reason to be on the road.

Brendon waltzed over and went into the fridge, glancing around before looking up and yanking Patrick’s headphones off. “Did you not go and replace my iced coffee like you promised?”

“Sorry?” Patrick responded nervously, that creeping feeling returning.

“You asked if you could have my iced coffee this morning and I said yes, just as long as you went and got me another one after. Did you forget to go and get it?”

“I didn’t have an iced coffee this morning…” Patrick stammered, confused.

“Yes you did.” Brendon told him firmly. “And it was mine. And you promised you’d go and get me another one. I want mine now, so go get one, Pat.”

“D-Don’t call me that.” Patrick frowned, quickly pushing save on his computer and shutting the lid. “I-I’ll call Pete and see what he says!”

“Awww, little baby Patrick needs to call Petey and ask if he remembers what baby Pattycakes forgot.” Brendon mocked. “Just go and get me a drink.”

“I d-didn’t drink your drink… Pete brought me one c-coffee this morning from the café and, a-and I know I didn’t have another b-because the doctor said t-too much caffeine is bad for my m-memory, a-and…”

“Well, maybe that’s why you don’t remember drinking mine then.” Brendon told him.

Dammit, that was some proper logic. He sat silently for a moment, considering his options. Pete was on the radio right now and wouldn’t exactly be there to take his call, and Joe and Andy weren’t around this morning either. So it was his faulty memory against Brendon’s faulty word, and he didn’t know which was the better route to take.

Let himself possible be pushed over yet again, or possible be an awful person who refused to replace someone else’s drink after promising that he would.

With a sigh he placed his computer on the chair beside him, and grabbed his crutches to get up. The risk of losing a couple of dollars was a better risk than being a terrible person, and he had planned to go out and get some chocolate milk anyway. Brendon gave him a cold smile as he grabbed his wallet and told him which brand of iced coffee he wanted. “And if you could grab me a chocolate bar on the way that would be great, Pat.”

“Don’t call me that.” Patrick muttered. “I don’t have enough change to get you a chocolate bar.”

“Then just use your card.” Brendon shrugged.

“I’m not using my card if I have enough change to get your drink.” Patrick huffed. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Not so fast, Pat.” Brendon reached over and grabbed a bear from Patrick’s bunk. “You bring a chocolate bar or you might not see him again.”

“H-Hey! That’s not y-yours!” Patrick’s voice got visibly nervous, and Brendon just laughed.

“You’re a grown man with a stupid obsession. Maybe it’ll be better if you don’t bring me a chocolate bar. It’ll be good for you to leave this stupid thing in the trash where it belongs.” He went to throw the bear out, and Patrick dove to catch it. It was a relief to have it back in his arms, but Brendon just grabbed a handful more from his bunk and gave him that signature cold smile. “Go get my drink and my chocolate, Pat.”

Patrick hated the fact that he did it. He hated the fact that he walked a mile to the corner store and bought him a drink and a chocolate bar and then crutched the entire mile back. He hated that all Brendon did when he got his drinks was brush the bears off the sofa onto the floor, and Patrick had to scramble to pick them up.

He was still on the floor trying to gather them up when Pete, Andy and Joe got back from their morning interview. It was a strange sight to walk into, and Joe was the one who broke the silence. “What’s going on?”

“Patrick just went and got me a drink from the store. He’s great, our Pat.” Brendon smiled, patting Patrick condescendingly on the head, as if he was a dog on the floor. Pete did not take that well.

“What did you do, Brendon?!”

“Nothing.” He laughed, snatching one of the bears from Patrick. “I just promised I’d look after these stupid things until he got back with my drink.”

Patrick just got up and wrapped Pete in a hug for comfort. All he had done today was be terrified that Brendon was going to hurt his bears. He just needed a hug.

Pete hugged his friend back, a little surprised at first, but then realised that something was off. Still holding Patrick tight, he glared at Brendon. “Put his stuff down. It’s not yours, nobody gave you permission to touch it. We gave you a hell of an opportunity to come on this fucking tour, and if you don’t start treating Patrick with respect then it ends. Hear me?”

“What does it even matter?” Brendon tossed the bear up, before catching it again. “It’s not like he’ll remember any of this anyway. I still don’t understand why you brought him. We don’t need him here. He’s just taking up a couch and making everything a billion times harder than it needs to be.”

Patrick’s grip on Pete tightened. Pete opened his mouth to say something, but was beaten to it.

“He’s here because he’s a damn important part of this band!” Joe defended, putting a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “And you do not talk about him like that!”

Brendon laughed. “Seriously? You too?”

“Yeah.” Andy told him sternly. “Us too.”

Brendon could tell that he was outnumbered here, but attempted to brush it off. He threw the bear up in the air again and caught it. “You realise this bear thing is mental, right? He’s never gonna get any better if you don’t do something.”

“Give it back, asshole.” Pete hissed. “It’s not yours.”

“Only retards need bears at night. Are you a retard Pat? Just a little retard, aren’t you?”

Patrick started crying, but shook his head ever-so-slightly.

“Good.” Brendon smiled. “Then I guess you don’t need this then.”

It didn’t take a lot of effort. One hand on the bear’s head, one hand on the bear’s arm, and he pulled. The stuffing exploded out of the thing as it tore, and Brendon threw the two halves onto the floor.

The scream that came from Patrick’s mouth shook the whole bus. Scratch that, it shook the whole parking lot.

Joe was the one that leapt into action and quickly swept all the parts of the bear into his arms. Brendon was just laughing, and Pete was seething with anger, as was Andy.

“Get the fuck out of this bus, Brendon.” Pete told him, his face going blood red. “Get out!”

“Seriously?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Get out.” Joe added. “In this band we respect each other, and we’re not taking your shit anymore.”

“It wasn’t that bad, guys.” He chuckled awkwardly. “Shit. Sorry Pat.”

“Get. The fuck. Off this fucking bus.” Pete seethed.

Brendon glanced around. He had Pete glowing red with anger, Joe shaking his head, and even Andy looked like he was about to pop a vein. He started to realise he wasn’t going to be able to talk his way out of this, and slowly stepped out the door.

Patrick was staring at the remnants of his toy in Joe’s arms and was sobbing. Andy, who was remarkably prone to losing buttons off his shirts, grabbed his emergency sewing kit from the bunk and quickly sat next to Joe. “We’ll fix it buddy, don’t worry.”

Pete just held him close and rubbed his back. “I’m sorry, ‘Trick, I’m sorry we let that happen… this is awful, I’m sorry. We’ll fix it, and trust me, he won’t mess with you again, I’m sorry. Shhh…”

“I j-just w-wanna go h-home.” Patrick mustered between sobs.

“I know buddy, I’m sorry.” Pete apologised, before gently leaning down and kissing the top of his head. “It’ll be alright, I’m here, don’t worry.”

Patrick just held him tight, Brendon’s words ringing in his ears while Andy used his expert sewing technique to fix the bear. It took a little while, the four of them sat together until Andy finished.

“Well… it’s not perfect… but it’s in one piece?” He offered.

Andy expected him to take the bear off him to hug, but instead he just went in and hugged Andy. “T-Thank you…”

“Aww, it’s okay.” He chuckled. “It’s the least I could do. I’ve been an asshole these past couple of weeks. It’s time to make amends.”

“Me too.” Joe added.

Patrick just tackled the two of them in a hug. God, how he’d missed his friends.


	33. im coming apart at the seams

The next day off was the first one that the band spent together since the tour started. They left early in the morning, before Brendon had gotten out of his bunk, and went for breakfast.

They hadn’t really had a very personal relationship with Brendon since the bear incident. He was contractually needed to finish the tour off, but that didn’t mean they had to be friends. It was clear from their interactions now that something was different. Brendon avoided Patrick like the plague, and the only reason he ever talked to the others was about something like if the shower was free, or what city they were playing next. He’d relinquished his rights to the playstation at the back of the bus, and mostly kept to himself.

Pete liked to think he knew that he fucked up real bad, but he also knew that he was just scared of Pete going ape-shit on him like he had last time. Nobody had questioned Brendon’s black eye, just acknowledged that nobody messed with Patrick as long as his band was around to protect him.

That was once again being shown at breakfast as they headed out to a small café on the outskirts of town. It was just the four of them again, laughing and generally having a good time together. It had been far too long since this happened. Probably not since before Patrick started passing out at shows.

Doing it again just made them realise how much they’d missed it.

They had a full three days in LA, which was exciting, and it meant that they were able to make a couple of plans and do a bit of sightseeing. It was especially exciting for Pete, who actually was starting to make plans to move out here. They were constantly being flown out here by the label for contract stuff and so forth, and it just made more sense if they lived out here. He just hadn’t told Patrick that.

“Can we get pancakes?” Patrick asked as he sat down at their table, drumming his fingers on the edge.

“Sure can.” Pete assured with a smile, grabbing a menu and opening it up. “So, three whole days off. That’s pretty cool.”

“And the hotel room is pretty epic too.” Joe added with a grin. “City views, all of us.”

“Nice!” Andy high-fived him.

“Are we gonna make any plans over the next few days?” Joe asked.

“Patrick’s got a doctor’s appointment and an x-ray booked for Friday, but we’re free today and Thursday.” Pete smiled. “So, LA, what do you wanna do?”

“Walk of fame, the obvious touristy stuff.” Andy told them. “The boulevard, etcetera.”

“Sounds good for today.” Pete agreed. “Do a little bit of shopping as well. I didn’t bring enough clothes and I’m not exactly up for paying for the laundry service just yet.”

“You do realise that you could just do the laundry yourself?” Joe asked with a smirk.

“Yeah, but I’m lazy.” Pete laughed. 

That just made the whole band start laughing in agreement. “True that!”

“I-I’m just gonna go to the bathroom.” Patrick murmured, quickly getting up from his seat.

“Okay, cool.” Pete smiled, glancing up at him. “Everything okay?”

“Y-Yeah, I think I ate something bad…” He quickly gathered his crutches. “I’ll be back.”

“Okay, feel better.”

Patrick was quick to leave the restaurant, and Joe sighed. “Well, I think it’s time we discussed the Brendon situation now that Patrick’s not here.”

“True…” Pete murmured.

“No more punches. We’re not here to be violent, Pete.” Andy told him firmly. “I get that he did the wrong thing, but no more of that.”

“Fine….”

“He had it coming though…” Joe murmured. “I mean, I don’t condone the violence, but it did teach him a lesson.”

“And we’re not teaching it again.” Andy reiterated.

“Fine, fine.” Pete muttered. “I won’t punch him again.”

“Good.” Andy smiled. “Now, look, he has to hang around with us for the rest of the tour, so what’s the plan?”

“Just leave it as it is now? We just don’t talk?” Joe offered with a smile.

Andy was about come in with some profoundness about giving people a second chance, when he heard a scream, and the waitress of this little café ran out. “Who’s with the guy on the crutches?!”

Pete immediately bolted out of his chair. “I am. What’s going on?!”

“J-Just, this way!”

When they got to Patrick, they found him convulsing on the floor of the men’s room. Pete immediately lifted his head off the floor, his own breathing getting faster as he tried to rack his brain for what to do in this situation. He had no idea. None of the guys had any idea. Patrick had never had a seizure before.

“C-Call an ambulance!” Pete yelled in alarm as some blood oozed out of Patrick’s mouth onto the tiles.

There is no doubt that watching someone have a seizure is absolutely terrifying. When that person is your best friend, and when this was meant to a nice breakfast, that just makes it 10 times worse. Pete just tried to hold Patrick’s head still while his body convulsed, and waited for the ambulance that Andy dialled to arrive.

He was there on the floor shaking for a good 8 minutes before it stopped for a little bit. Pete was relieved, but it was short-lived when the convulsing returned. This time, worse, and this time, Patrick started going blue.

Pete was still trying to hold his mouth open when the ambulance team arrived and Joe pulled him away. All Pete was getting from this was terrible flashbacks. Being pushed away when Patrick fell off the stage, and sitting in the front of the ambulance on the way to the hospital while listening to his best friend struggling to breathe.

It was always one step forward, two steps back with Patrick. When they got the hospital and Pete was shoved to the waiting room, he just cried. He didn’t understand anything. All he wanted was for Patrick to be happy and healthy again, but he couldn’t. He’d never be the same again. And it could all be traced back to the moment that Pete took Patrick’s glasses from him on the 6th of May before their Riveria show.

Everybody has ghosts. This one was coming back to haunt Pete big-time.


	34. have you ever wanted to disappear?

It was all happening all over again, and it just made Pete’s head spin.

The worst 2 weeks of his life so far, he thought they were behind him. But here he was again, in the hospital beside Patrick’s bed, and all those feelings were returning. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He wasn’t coping very well.

Patrick wasn’t comatose again, thank god, but he was still unconscious, and it still felt the same to sit beside him. There was this nagging feeling inside him, telling him there was something he could have done. He could’ve gone with Patrick to the bathroom when he said he didn’t feel well. He could’ve rushed to Patrick faster, could have held him down better.

Or maybe he could’ve just let Patrick wear his goddamn glasses on that stupid night.

Not that it mattered now, Patrick had smashed his glasses when he’d fallen earlier, and Andy had the remants of them back in his hotel room. But for now they all just sat mostly in silence around Patrick’s bed, thinking about the terrifying experience of watching Patrick go through the most severe type of seizure.

“I might go get us some lunch from downstairs.” Joe got up from his chair and stretched. “Do you guys want anything?”

“I’ll come.” Andy gathered his things. “Pete? It might be healthy to just, take a walk. We’ve been in this room for…. 4 hours now.”

“What if he wakes up and nobody’s here?” Pete asked, holding Patrick’s hand and gently running his thumb over the top of his friend’s palm. “I’ll just stay. Can you b-bring me back something?”

“Yeah, that’s alright, we’ll get you something.” Andy assured. “But after that you have to go for a walk to get drinks or something while we stay. You’re a ball of nerves and you need to clear your head.”

“I’m fine, guys.” Pete tried to tell them. “It’s Patrick we need to focus on.”

Joe and Andy knew they weren’t going to win this argument right now, and headed down to grab some food. Pete just brushed some hair out of Patrick’s eyes (he made a mental note to take him to the hairdressers) and sighed. “I’m sorry ‘Tricky, this is all my fault….”

He didn’t get a reply from sleeping Patrick, as expected. Pete just sighed again and rubbed his eyes. “Part of me doesn’t want you to wake up, you know? Because I don’t, I don’t know what I’ll do if you wake up and you’re back at square one…” He trailed off, guilt pooling in his stomach. “Y-You came s-so far and we were d-doing so well a-and, and now this! A-and I don’t understand what’s going on… I don’t know what t-to do anymore ‘Trick. I l-love you, you’re my best friend and I n-need you, but I…”

He was interrupted by a nurse coming to do her rounds. She offered Pete a bittersweet smile as she wrote a couple of things on her clipboard, before turning to him. “He should be up soon, sweetheart. I know watching a seizure is scary, but he should be fine within a couple of days.”

Pete wiped his eyes and sniffled. “T-This wasn’t just a s-seizure, he um… he h-had a traumatic brain i-injury about 3 months a-ago, a-and… yeah. A-And it was really hard, he’s b-been working really hard to overcome s-some memory issues and stuff… I’m j-just worried it’ll push progress b-back a whole lot.”

“Oh.” Was her response. She thought about it for a moment, before gently patting Pete on the shoulder. “Look, we don’t know what’s going on until he wakes up. But he’s still going to be himself, and even if his memory issues are affected, it’s pretty clear he has some special people in his life who care a whole lot about him to help him remember things. Everything heals with time. Maybe take a walk to collect yourself, hey? That might help.”

Pete sighed. “I, I’ll just wait until my friends get back and then I’ll go.”

“Okay sweetheart, I’ll be back in a little while. Buzz if anything happens, okay?”

“Okay.” Pete mumbled. ”T-Thank you.”

She just beamed. “No problems. See you soon.”

Pete and Patrick were alone again after that, and Pete just sighed again. “P-Please just be okay buddy, please…” He took Patrick’s hand in his own again. “You’ve been hurt more than enough for one lifetime. You didn’t deserve what you got, and you don’t deserve any more. You’re the golden boy, our little fucking ray of sunshine ‘Tricky, we just need you to be alright…”

Joe and Andy returned with hotdogs, and Pete suddenly realised how hungry he was (they never did end up getting breakfast, and it was now 2:30 in the afternoon). He devoured his first and grabbed his wallet, murmuring something about going for a walk to get another one.

He just needed to get some fresh air, and hopefully everything would become clear. He took the long way down to the cafeteria to get another hot dog, and spent a while down there. He thought a lot, mostly about happy memories. Meeting Patrick, playing with Patrick, spending time with Patrick. Being with Patrick during his darkest moments. Being there with Patrick when he woke up from a coma. Being there to protect Patrick on tour.

Patrick sleeping in his bed each night because neither of them could sleep without each other anymore. Patrick giving that little giggle when Pete told him how much he loved him. The way his little face lit up when he played Pete some demos and Pete loved them as much as he did. The way that he held Pete’s hand when he got nervous.

Sometimes it was the little things. Pete finished his food, and headed back upstairs to his friend. He was expecting Patrick to still be asleep when he got up there, but that was clearly not the case from the moment he heard the screaming. Pete ran the rest of the way, bursting through the door. Patrick was up, and had forced himself against the back of the bed, holding the blanket up as a shield against Joe and Andy, who were looking at him with very concerned expressions.

“Patrick, buddy, it’s okay, we’re just here to help you.” Pete walked over slowly, and Patrick flinched away from him. “It’s alright, don’t freak out.”

“P-Pete.” He stammered, looking at his friend.

“Yeah, that’s right, I’m Pete.” Pete slowly sat down beside him. “Deep breaths buddy, you’re okay.”

“I-I-“ Patrick mumbled, slowly letting his guard down. “P-Pete I don’t f-feel too good…”

Andy was the one who leapt into action and grabbed him a sick bag. Pete just gently rubbed his back while pushing the nurse call button every 5 seconds. Eventually, one came and took the bag before running through a couple of tests.

“What’s your name?”

“I-I, um…”

“How old are you?”

“U-Uh…”

“Who’s this here?”

“T-That’s Pete.”

“And these people here?”

“Uh….”

“Okay honey, that’s alright. Just lie back and get some rest, okay?”

“O-Okay…” Patrick murmured nervously, resting his head back on the pillow.

Pete just looked at his friend and felt his heart pound in his chest. They were back at square one, on the opposite side of the country. This was worst case scenario. This was everything he was hoping wouldn't happen.

Oh fuck.


	35. I'm the invisible man who can't stop staring in the mirror

They kept Patrick in hospital for the entire 3 days that they were meant to have off. It had just been one blow after another. Memory issues, then stitches in his cheek, then they did the x-ray and told him that he had to wear the boot for another month, and then now they were sitting in a doctor’s office, seemingly waiting for more bad news.

Patrick was quiet. He’d been very quiet since he’d had his seizure. His memory issues weren’t as long term as last time, and he was relatively okay now, but he still had become scared of entering conversations. He just didn’t want to say the wrong thing, or say something stupid, and the only way to avoid that was not to say anything at all.  
Pete squeezed Patrick’s hand comfortingly. “Hey, buddy, it’s all gonna be alright, yeah? No matter what this doctor says. Don’t be scared.”

Patrick didn’t say anything, but rested his head on Pete’s shoulder. Pete had a comfortable shoulder, and it was warm and cosy too. Much warmer and cosier than not having a shoulder to rest on. Pete didn’t mind. He just put an arm around him and held him close. They were still sitting like that when the doctor entered with a friendly doctor-smile that they seemed to be getting a lot of these days.

“You must be Patrick.” The doctor smiled, extending a hand to the shorter man. Patrick stared at it for a second, then look up at him, then back down at the hand. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do, and hesitantly held his hand out for a fist bump. That was what the doctor must’ve meant, right? He just wanted a fist bump and hadn’t put his hand out right.

The doctor was confused for a split second too, but did fist bump Patrick to avoid the awkwardness. He chuckled slightly and sat back in his chair, wiggling the mouse of his computer to bring the screen to life. “So, because I’m not your regular physician, and I don’t have access to the complete records regarding Patrick’s accident, there’s limits to what I can do here.”

Pete nodded, looking down at his lap, where Patrick’s grip on his hand was getting a bit tighter. 

“But the good news is, at this point, I don’t think it’s medically necessary for you to go home. I think you’re okay to stay on the tour for the time being, but there’s a couple of precautions.”

Pete nodded. “Of course.”

“First off, this doesn’t have to be done straight away, but when you do get home you’ll need to have an EEG done to test for epilepsy.” The doctor explained. “There is a chance that he’s developed it as a result of his brain injury, and I’m actually a bit surprised he hasn’t undergone a test for it yet. But anyway, until that’s done, I can’t prescribe any preventative medications, so that means that you’re at risk while you’re on the road.”

“So you’re essentially saying we should go home.” Pete stated.

“It would be highly _recommended_ , but it’s not a necessity, so to speak.” The doctor explained. “Listen, until this test is done, it’s important to take all precautions. So that means getting enough sleep, not drinking any alcohol, not taking any drugs, and avoiding bright lights.” He took a deep breath. “And that means no shows.”

“No shows?” Pete echoed.

“Not until the test is done.”

“Shit.” He muttered. Patrick didn’t say anything, just hung his head and looked down at his lap.

\---------------

“So absolutely zero shows?” Joe asked.

“None.” Pete sighed. “I think it’s time we finally go home.”

“There’s only 10 shows left.” Brendon said from his bunk. “I know it’s like, important or whatever, but we’ve only got two more weeks and then we’ll go home anyway.”

“Patrick comes first.” Andy told him firmly. “We’re not gonna keep going if it’s hurting him.”

“It’s not hurting him, though. He’ll be fine, just as long as he doesn’t go near the stage lights.” Brendon explained. “I know Pete won’t let Patrick go home alone, so I think we should just bring him with us for the last little bit and then we’ll all go home together.”

“He just wants to go home.” Pete sighed. “He doesn’t understand where he is, or what he’s doing here when he can’t contribute to the shows or anything. He just needs time at home to recover, and he’s not getting it on the road. Can you guys call in a replacement bassist for the last couple of shows?”

“Fall Out Boy isn’t Fall Out Boy without you, Pete.” Joe frowned. “We can’t perform with only two of us. That’s not the band then.”

Patrick was sitting down the other end of the bus with his headphones on, pretending to be watching a movie but was in reality eavesdropping on the conversation. It was true, he did just want to go home, but not at the expense of this tour. He didn’t really understand the tour in the first place, and still found it confusing to be on the road, but from the way that everyone was talking about it, it seemed pretty important, and something that they’d been working on for quite a while.

Reluctantly he made his way to where the rest of the band was standing and took Pete’s hand for comfort. “U-Um, I can stay, I w-wanna, I wanna stay on the tour.”

“Trick, buddy, you don’t have to stay for us.” Joe told him. “The shows can be rescheduled. Everything will work out, don’t think this is your only option.”

“I wanna stay.” He repeated quietly, looking down at his shoes. “I do.”

“See, even Pat gets it!” Brendon called from his bunk.

Pete sighed and wrapped his friend in a hug. “Okay buddy, you can do whatever you wanna do. Just as long as it’s not for us.”

Patrick just nodded silently.


	36. we are the jack-o-lanterns in july

To say Pete was worried about his best friend was an understatement.

Patrick had mostly been coping pretty well with the whole ‘not being able to play shows’ thing. He’d taken to sitting in the bunk while the rest of the band was gone, quietly working on his music whenever nobody was around. He’d written quite a few songs over the past few weeks, and they were incredible songs, but Pete was easily able to see through the façade.

The rest of the band might not have been able to see the hurt in Patrick’s eyes as they left for the shows, but Pete did. The rest of the band might not have noticed his desperation to constantly be with them, but Pete did. The rest of the band might have not seen that extra bit of excitement when they came back at night, but Pete did.

And it broke his heart.

They were reaching the end of the tour, Patrick approached him with a nervous smile and a cup of coffee. “H-Hey, Pete.”

“Hey ‘Trick, everything alright?” Pete asked as his best friend sat down next to him.

“Yeah, yeah. I, just… there’s only two shows left.”

“I know.” Pete smiled warmly and took his hand. “Then we’ll go home. I’m so sorry about this stupid tour, ‘Tricky. This wasn’t good for you, you shouldn’t have ever had to come, and I’m gonna make it up to you, I promise.”

“I wanna play.” Patrick blurted out.

“What?”

“I, um, I wanna play…” Patrick looked down at his lap. “I’ve been thinking a lot, and I’ve been remembering a lot of the shows we used to play, before I went splat, and it’s just… yeah. I miss it.”

“The lights, buddy.” Pete frowned. “I can’t, I can’t risk anything. It’s terrifying.”

“How do we even know that lights are the trigger, anyway?” Patrick responded. “When I had the first seizure, there were no lights in that bathroom.”

That was a point, and Pete was silent for a moment as he considered.

“I’ve been w-writing, this song…” Patrick gently slid his computer onto Pete’s knees, and handed him some headphones. “I wanna finish it, we’ve got a c-couple of weeks, and I dunno… I wanna sing it on stage and get back at Brendon at the final show.”

At the mention of that, Pete clenched his fist. “What did he do to you?!”

“Nothing big, it’s just like, the old stuff.” Patrick quickly defended. “That and he got mad at me the other day because I was sleeping in on the couch when he wanted to play the PlayStation and he took my crutches. But that doesn’t matter…”

Pete sprung up. “I’m gonna fucking _kill_ him, Patrick.”

“Don’t kill anyone!” Patrick sprung up next and grabbed Pete’s hands. “It’s okay, it’s okay, just, listen to my plan, okay? I think it’s better than anyone hurting anyone, and I think it’ll make him feel worse too.”

Pete frowned, and slowly sat down. “Explain it to me, and then I’ll decide whether he dies tonight or not.”

Patrick sighed and shook his head, but opened the demo. “I dunno… it’s rough. But I think if we can find a practice spot with Andy and Joe, then I reckon we can probably pull it off. So, um… the show set would be mostly normal, and I’d be up the back, and then about 3 quarters of the way in, you guys play the intro, and Brendon will be super confused, but I’ll pop up and take the microphone and start belting out the lyrics. And Brendon won’t know them, so he’ll be super confused and stuff, and it’ll be the ultimate revenge plan. And then I’ll finish the set.”

“Patrick, buddy…” Pete took a deep breath. “Even if, even if the stage lights aren’t a problem and you don’t have a seizure…. Do you think you can do it without passing out?”

“I… don’t know yet.”

“Plus you still have the cast, that’s a big thing that you’re not exactly going to be able to work around.”

“It comes off before the final show.” Patrick smiled.

“You think you can pull it off?”

“I wanna play, Pete.” Patrick told him. “I haven’t had a chance to really play all tour, and it sucks. I’ve been pretending it doesn’t because I don’t want to make other people feel bad, but it does. I helped make the songs, I wanna sing them, or even just play to them, you know?”

“I know.” Pete assured him.

“Good. So, can I play?”

“Look, let me just listen to this, and then we’ll have to see what Joe and Andy say, and then, yeah. We’ve got two weeks, so we’re gonna have to put in a lot of effort if we want it to work.”

“We can try.” Patrick beamed.

“You really, really, really wanna do this? Even though it might end up hurting you a whole lot?”

“I really do.”

Pete smiled at him. “Then let’s do it.”

Patrick grinned and hugged him tightly. “I’m so happy I could kiss you right now?”

“I mean, do you want to?” Pete offered with a cocky grin.

He expected a response, but all he got was the sensation of Patrick’s soft lips against his own, and he could hear the fireworks going off in the distance.


	37. i'm just such a happy mess

It hadn’t been easy to find a practice space before their final show at last minute, and it had cost Pete an arm and a leg, but here they were.

Patrick was giddy. Not was he about to get his cast off after this practice session was over, he was about to teach the song he wrote to his bandmates, and then he was gonna perform it tomorrow night. This was going to be the very best two days of tour, and it was only just beginning.

“So… why are we here?” Joe asked, looking around the empty studio.

Patrick grinned. “I’m gonna sing tomorrow night.”

“Sing? You?” Andy turned to his friend. “I mean…. Sing? You?”

“Yeah.” Pete folded his arms. “’Trick’s got a plan. He wrote a song, right? And it’s gonna be a little bit of a prank on Brendon, just to finish the tour off and pay him back for all the shit he did to Patrick.”

Joe smiled. “Awesome. Play us the demo.”

They stood around the computer, and Patrick pushed play. Pete watched his bandmates faces as they heard it for the first time, and was relieved to find them smiling and nodding along to the beat.

“That’s awesome, Patrick.” Joe grinned. “You wrote that while on tour?”

Patrick nodded with a smile. “I just, Brendon was being a bit mean for a long time and it was just something that I did to get some anger out, and I think it’s pretty good…”

“It’s amazing.” Pete assured him. “So listen guys, the plan is we’re gonna run through the set as normal, and then just before Grenade Jumper, Patrick’s gonna get the microphone and get up and play this one, and then he’ll finish the set off. Sound good?”

Andy nodded. “Sounds good.”

The song didn’t take long to learn, not with everyone giving in their all in the practice space that Pete had booked. Pete loved the song, and everyone else loved playing the song, but most of all, they loved seeing Patrick happy again.

It was hard not to swell up with pride when he belted out the chorus at the top of his lungs, something he hadn’t had a chance to do in a really long time. Patrick was really going for it, and having a really great while doing so. Music was such a quintessential part of Patrick’s life and who he was as a person, that going back to it after having it torn away for a period of time just made him feel whole again.

His excitement was infectious. Everyone was having a good time down in the studio, and the song sounded so much better when everyone was playing it together. The more they practiced, the more excited Patrick got to get back up on stage and belt it out to a crowd.

The tour had been bittersweet for that reason. Those songs were Patrick’s babies, he’d worked so hard on them. Sure, it was great that they were being played to crowds and taken around the country, but it was also hard to sit back not be the one presenting them. But tomorrow night, when it was finally the last show of the tour, he was gonna get a chance. And it was going to be _glorious_.

“Hey, we’ve only got the space for another hour, and this song is sounding pretty dope, so do you guys wanna run through the end of the set together?” Pete asked. “Just grenade jumper, Chicago is so two years ago and Saturday.”

“Yeah, that’s not a bad idea.” Joe nodded. “Is that alright Patrick?”

Patrick nodded with a grin, still on his high from actually making music again. “Yeah, sounds good.”

They started with Grenade jumper, and Patrick started out pretty strong. “My heart ticks in beat with these kids that I grew up with, Living like life's going out of style, And you came to watch us play like a "Big shot talent", But at the end of the day you know… u-um….”

The music stopped, and Patrick looked down at his hands. “W-What’s the next line?”

“You don’t remember?” Pete asked softly, trying to hide the anxiety in his voice.

Patrick hesitantly shook his head.

“Where we come from, and were we call home. Then it’s straight into Hey, Chris.” Andy informed, concern visible on his face.

“Okay, okay, I remember now.” Patrick nodded quickly. “Can we go from the beginning?”

“Course, buddy.” Pete assured, playing the opening again.

They went from the beginning, and Patrick did a little better, getting through the first few verses until he trailed off again. “U-Uh…”

Andy opened his mouth to say something, but Pete cut him off. “Hey, let’s play though the other ones and come back to Grenade Jumper, alright?”

Pete’s hope was that the other two would jog his memory, and he’d remember the first song they played when they came back to it. That was quickly diminished when Patrick trailed off 4 times during Chicago is so two years ago, and six times during Saturday.

“Patrick, dude…” Joe sighed. “When was the last time you looked at the lyrics?”

Patrick went red in embarrassment and looked down at his shoes. “This morning?”

“Maybe you should give the microphone back to Brendon after your song?” Andy suggested with a pained expression. “I mean, I know you want to sing, but buddy, if you blank on stage…”

“No, no, we’ll find a workaround.” Pete was quick to jump in after seeing the look of despair on Patrick’s face.

“Pete.” Andy frowned. “Patrick, I know you want to sing, and the rest of us want you to sing too, but you’re not exactly better yet. I mean, we shouldn’t have even come on tour in the first place…” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to hurt you, but at the same time, I don’t want you getting more hurt…”

“I w-won’t pass out or anything, I promise!” Patrick scrambled for an answer. “A-And there’s no proof that the seizure was caused by bright lights anyway!”

“Buddy, this is your health, and this is your reputation, as well.” Andy breathed. “What happens if you blank, and can’t recover the song? What’s the crowd gonna think? I mean, with the internet and stuff…”

“Andy, c’mon, we’ll figure _something_ out.” Joe sighed. “It’s one show. And even if he blanks, the crowd will probably keep going with the lyrics anyway, so he can easily recover.”

“I just don’t want to see you hurt, Patrick.” Andy put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been hurt far too much for one lifetime, and you don’t deserve anything else on top of that. We can do a better show, where you sing the whole set once you’re all recovered and stuff, I just don’t know if you’re ready yet.”

“Let’s just see how you’re going tomorrow, and we’ll make the call then.” Pete took Patrick’s hand. “We have to be out of the studio in 10 minutes, so we gotta pack up now. But we’ll figure it out, okay ‘Trick?”

“Okay.” Patrick mumbled glumly.


	38. i was young and a menace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohmygoodnessgollygosh.
> 
> So for starters, let's just apologise for the fact that I accidentally uploaded a chapter of a different fic onto this one and no doubt left a tonne of you confused. That's just me being a fucking idiot, as usual, and letting excitement get the better of me and not paying attention to what I was doing as I was trying to upload a chapter.
> 
> Thanks to those who pointed out my mistake, that chapter's all gone from this fic now and I've fixed it all (I think) and then I got out of bed at 1 o'clock in the fucking morning on Sunday night even though I have school tomorrow to write this so I could put a note it and apologise for my fucking inadequacy as a human being.
> 
> Sorry.
> 
> Enjoy this chapter.<3

Getting Patrick’s cast off was meant to be the world’s most joyous occasion. It symbolised so much, a huge step in his recovery, and meant that for the first time in almost 4 months, he’d be able to walk around without a stupid heavy thing on his leg.

He’d get to ditch his crutches too. That was exciting. No more awkward bus entires, no more having to find an elevator because stairs were actually a living nightmare. Just Patrick and his legs, and no crutches or casts or anything like that.

But as he sat in the doctor’s office, his hand in Pete’s as they unstrapped everything and let his leg free from it’s temporary prison, the excitement just wasn’t there like it was this morning. This morning it was better, it meant that he was going to get it off and then tomorrow he was going to get up on stage and play his song and finish his set and kick Brendon’s ass, metaphorically of course.

But now it just meant he was gonna get to play one stupid song on this stupid tour. There was no way Brendon was gonna be as affected, after all, Patrick was just gonna have to hand the stupid microphone back and then saunter his way back to his little stool in the back corner where nobody noticed him.

And it sucked. It really, really, sucked that Patrick didn’t get to play his own shows. It was his dream to play these songs to the world, they were his songs. He was finally getting excited, with four songs to sing to finish the tour off, but now it was just one.

“Better?” Pete asked him softly when it was removed.

Patrick rested his head on Pete’s shoulder and swung his leg back and forth off the edge of the bench he was sitting on. The sensation of air on his leg was weird, but he didn’t mind it. It looked a little funny now, swollen and a little discoloured, but the doctor assured him that it would all clear up within a few days and everything would be back to normal.

They offered Patrick the boot back – a memento, so to speak, of his time recovering from a broken leg. Patrick quickly responded that he’d rather burn it then keep it in his house, and that just made Pete laugh and the doctor throw it straight into the trash.

Good riddance.

“It’s off, buddy.” Pete told him with a smile. “Are you excited?”

“Yeah?” Patrick murmured half-heartedly.

“Oh, is this about the stupid show thing?” Pete asked. “Because listen, Andy might have a point, but I have a plan, alright? You’re gonna finish our tour, and it’s going to be fucking epic.”

“A-Are you sure?” Patrick asked nervously. “I, I don’t wanna blank on stage…”

“You’re not gonna blank on stage. And even if you do, my plan covers it. So prep those vocals buddy, cause tomorrow night, you’re gonna fucking rock it.”

\-----------

Stolen wasn’t the right word. Borrowed was more like it.

Okay, so maybe borrowed wasn’t the right word for the teleprompter under Pete’s arm. He’d been nice at first, and he’d asked if the band could borrow it from the TV station for one night, and he’d have it back tomorrow morning, but like the assholes they were, they refused.

He hadn’t even taken the one they used for the morning broadcast, he’d taken the spare one from the back room that was a bit old and they only used for emergencies. It wasn’t exactly hard to take, Pete just sort-of picked it up, and walked out with it. And now he was taking it back to the bus, covered in a sheet to avoid suspicion.

“What the fuck is that?” Joe asked when he placed it on the table in front of him.

“The plan. So Patrick can finish the set tomorrow.” Pete grinned triumphantly, turning it on. “We have less than 24 hours to set it up and get all the lyrics and timing right on it, so can I trust you two to help me?”

“Where the hell did you even get this?” Andy asked, flicking the switch and bringing it to life.

“The TV station lent it to me.” Pete lied with a smile. “But it’s perfect, don’t you think? He doesn’t need to worry about blanking. He’s got everything he needs to be the rockstar that he is. He deserves to play, and he wants to play, and I’m not taking that away from him.”

The three looked over at Patrick, who was actually sleeping in his bunk for the first time all tour. He actually fit in it now, now that the cast was gone and he could snuggle up on an actual mattress with his bears. He was cute while he slept, and Pete just swelled up with pride. He’d come so far, and he just needed to play this one damn show, and then he’d feel so much better about everything.

“Do you even know how to program it?” Andy asked.

“There’s internet tutorials for everything these days.” Pete shrugged. “And I think I can plug it into my computer, and work from there. It can’t be that hard, right?”

Long story short, it was hard. The timing was hard, the programming was hard (Pete had no idea how to use html, but apparently the internet had him covered), and the entire process took the entire night, but it was totally worth it.

Patrick had been on the receiving end of all the drama for far too long now. Now it was Patrick’s turn to dish it back out, and Pete was nothing if not a fan of revenge in the form of on-stage pranks.

Now they just had to hope that Patrick wasn’t gonna pass out.


	39. the best part of believe is the 'lie'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes apologies for my terrible notes at the start of the last chapter. 2am SJ can be a bit of asshole to herself and the world. Apologies and I hope this makes up for it <3

Everything got real at soundcheck.

It was all in planning stages back at the bus, and at the practice space. But standing at the front of the stage, the teleprompter set up in front of him and the microphone in his hands, it become real to Patrick.

He was actually gonna do this. He was actually gonna play to the crowds and sing his song and show Brendon up on stage. And he was really damn excited about it.

He jumped around with his microphone in his hand, finally free of the cast that had slowed him down for so long. It was only soundcheck, but he was having a great time, practicing singing with the teleprompter and actually managed to get through all four songs without any problems.

Pete just grinned from behind him, playing along and his heart swelling up with pride. This was all he’d wanted for Patrick for almost a year now, for him to be able to sing and play and have a good time while doing so. No passing out, no brain injuries, no casts and no Brendon being an asshole to him. It was all coming up Patrick, and god it made him happy.

When they finished the set, Pete started clapping. “Yeah, Patrick! Tonight’s gonna be epic!”

Patrick laughed and ran to hug him. “Thank you.”

Pete grinned and hugged him back. “You don’t need to thank me. You did this, Patrick.”

Patrick just shook his head. “I c-couldn’t have done any of it without you. I wouldn’t have gotten all the memories back, a-and Brendon would’ve been mean if you weren’t t-there to stand up for me, and I wouldn’t have the teleprompter, a-and, yeah…”

Pete didn’t say anything else, just pressed his lips against Patrick’s and enjoyed the taste. In the moment, he tasted like success, like pride, and like love. And also vaguely of coffee and bacon that they’d eaten together that morning.

The day turned to night, and it became time to get ready for the show. Brendon had been told that Patrick was playing guitar up the back like he used to, just because it was the last show of the tour and wanted to play. Brendon hadn’t disagreed verbally, he was terrified of Pete after Pete gave him that black eye, but tried to act like it didn’t bother him and walked around the dressing room doing vocal warm ups.

Pete looked at Patrick and smiled, and Patrick joined in.

Brendon seemed annoyed, he was enjoying his solo version of the sound of silence, but now there was another voice filling the air as well. He tried to overpower him, he wasn’t going to lose to the retarded idiot, but eventually he started coughing and had to stop. Patrick just winked at him condescendingly and finished the song off, and was met with applause from the rest of the band.

 _What an asshole_. Brendon thought to himself.

“So… thanks for a fun tour, guys.” Andy started conversation. “I know it hasn’t been the most fun, and there’s been quite a few ups and downs, but I love playing with you, so thanks.”

“Yeah.” Pete nodded with a smile, taking Patrick’s hand. “Thanks for all you’ve done. Like, for me and ‘Trick when things have been hard, and you’ve just been really good mostly, so thanks.” Patrick nodded in agreement.

 

Joe just smiled. “I like playing. Thanks for letting me play.”

They all turned to Brendon, expecting him to thank him for giving him the opportunity to tour, but he didn’t. Instead, he took a sip of his beer and pulled his stage jacket on. “Let’s make this the best night of the tour, guys.”

_Oh it will be, Brendon, just not for the reasons you’re thinking._

Eventually, Pete and Patrick made their way to the bathroom to run over the plan one last time before going on stage. Patrick was giddy with excitement, and tackled Pete in a hug as soon as they were alone. “This is gonna be amazing!”

“It really is.” Pete smiled warmly, kissing his cheek. “Hey, so you know that if you start getting dizzy, you step back, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Patrick nodded, growing uncertainty in his voice.

“Listen, I just, you’re gonna rock tonight. I just want to check you’re not gonna hurt yourself, okay?” Pete rubbed his shoulder. “So if you get dizzy, or anything like that, just hand the microphone straight back. We’ll show Brendon up some other way. Don’t go splat again, alright?”

“I don’t want to go splat again.” Patrick nodded quickly. “I don’t wanna break my leg, o-or forget everything again… it wasn’t fun…”

“No, it wasn’t.” Pete rubbed his shoulder affectionately. “But you can do it tonight. You’re looking great, dude, and I’m so proud of how far you’ve come. Just keep your glasses on, stay clear of the edge of the stage, and absolutely rock it, hey?”

“Keep my glasses on?” Patrick echoed, touching his frames.

“Yeah…”

“Is that important?”

“Yes, very!” Pete rushed. “Don’t you dare take them off!”

Patrick frowned, slightly confused. “Why not?”

“Because… because you wouldn’t have gone splat if you were wearing them last time…” 

 

Patrick thought about that for a moment. “Why would I take them off? I need them to see where everything is. I mean, the stage is dark and my vision isn’t great even in the light…”

“You took them off because I asked you to.” Pete explained slowly, and cautiously. “It’s… it was my fault you went splat the first time. I, I thought it would help. You were so scared, and n-nervous, and I just, I thought that if couldn’t s-see the crowds then you wouldn’t pass out, a-and then I just… you d-didn’t see that you were on the edge and… splat.”

“Oh.” Was all Patrick responded with.

“I’m so sorry, ‘Trick.” Pete breathed, looking down at his feet. “I d-didn’t wanna hurt you, but I h-hurt you bad…”

Patrick stood in silence for a few minutes, thinking about what had just been revealed. He thought about everything leading up to the moment he went splat, which he actually didn’t remember, but that didn’t matter. He thought about all the stupid memory blanks – they wouldn’t have happened. He would’ve been fine to go on tour. He wouldn’t have been bullied by Brendon. He wouldn’t have had to drag his leg around in a cast for 4 months. Why did Pete take his stupid glasses from him?!

“Patrick, I’m s-sorry.” Pete croaked. “Please, just say something…”

Patrick shook his head, and left the bathroom in silence. “W-We’ll, we’ll talk after the show.”

“’Trick…”

“Shut it, Pete.” Patrick snapped. “I’m going to get ready. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

He walked away, leaving Pete feeling so very lost and desperate in the bathroom. He couldn’t say he expected a good reaction, but he wasn’t expecting that.

Pete felt like he was going to pass out himself.


	40. i don't care

It started like all other shows this tour had. Patrick had been sitting up the back of the stage, his guitar on his lap as he quietly played along to the song. Brendon was up the front, singing and dancing and interacting with the crowd, while Pete played along beside him.

Pete was truly only putting it on for the crowd tonight. He smiled and chanted and danced and spun around for them, but in reality it was really just an act. He was worried. Worried about Patrick, worried about what Patrick thought of him now, and worried about what on earth Patrick was gonna say to him when this show was finished.

He tried not to focus on that right now though. Right now, it was time for Patrick to shine, and even though Pete was racked with guilt, the show must go on. When it reached the point in the song where Grenade Jumper would normally start, Andy started with a huge smash on the drums, and Brendon turned around in confusion.

A stagehand had run on and handed Patrick his microphone, and after getting off his stool, he began storming up to the front of the stage, a wicked smile on his face. “ _Say my name and his in the same breath, I dare you to say they taste the same_.”

The crowd went wild. Brendon glared at Patrick and grabbed a microphone, trying to pretend that he was a part of this, and attempted some backup vocals. Patrick just smiled and shook his head at him, before Joe snuck up and snatched his microphone out of his hands.

His expression was hard to read. Pete watched from his corner of the stage, and noted that partly he looked confused, although he was still smiling and trying to fake it for the crowd. But partly, he looked a little angry, and Pete quickly wandered over to protect his friend, in case Brendon tried anything. That malicious look in his eyes never was one that led to anything good.

“ _Let the leaves fall off in the summer and let December glow in flaaaamesss!_ ” Patrick turned to the crowd with a smile and gestured for them to clap along to the beat. It only made Brendon’s awkward chuckles more out of place, and Pete made sure to smile at him.

“What the fuck is going on?” Brendon asked through a forced smile, making eye contact with Pete.

“The retard wrote you a song. And we all helped.” Joe smiled in reply, banging his head as he played.

“ _Erase myself and let go, Start it over again in Mexico. These friends, they don't love you, They just love the hotel suites, now!_ ” Patrick kept going, gesturing to Joe, Pete and Andy and grinning at Brendon during the ‘these friends’ lyric. Brendon paled slightly, but kept trying to smile and pretend he was part of this.

It became clear to everyone that he wasn’t when Patrick reached the chorus. He belted it out, screamed it to the crowd, and they screamed back at him. The camera for the screens focused on Brendon and Patrick’s interactions, as Patrick sung his song to the man who had terrorised him for the past 4 months. Brendon was finally getting what was coming to him, and it felt damn good.

“ _I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU THINK, AS LONG AS IT’S ABOUT ME. THE REST OF US CAN FIND HAPPINESS IN MISERY!_ ” 

Brendon realised the fight was up. He wasn’t going to win this. Not in front of a crowd, not in front of Joe, Pete and Andy, and not in front of his label. He didn’t even wave goodbye to the crowd, just slowly retreated back behind the drum stage, before disappearing out back. 

Pete and Patrick made eye contact for a split second after that, and while Pete was stressed that it would be a look of disappointment, Patrick just smiled at him with that cheeky little glint in his eye. They didn’t need to exchange words, but that smile they shared on that stage said everything it needed to. _We did it._

The finished the song, and Grenade Jumper too, with the teleprompter keeping Patrick on track with the lyrics. Then came a second of silence, and Patrick laughed, before addressing the crowd. “So, how are you all doing tonight?”

After excited screaming and several teenage girls yelling that the loved Patrick from the front of the barricade, he laughed again. “It’s good to be back up here on stage tonight, you know? I know a lot of you probably heard about my ‘going splat’ and stuff, and tonight’s actually my first show after coming back from that. So that’s pretty exciting.”

The crowd went wild again and Pete beamed. Patrick was crushing this, better than he ever could have hoped.

“So, y’know, I just wanted to come and thank you guys, for dealing with all the pushbacks and stuff for the shows, and even coming out when you knew that Brendon was gonna be filling in, and yeah.” Patrick chuckled awkwardly. “But I made it back, and that’s pretty cool. Obviously I haven’t done it alone, I’ve been helped by so many awesome people along the way, and I mean, hell, I’ve got a teleprompter here to remind me of the lyrics to my own songs. But you guys, you made this possible. And Pete, well, Pete helped me get here.”

Upon hearing that, Pete looked up at his friend. Patrick smiled and gestured for him to come over.

“So, uh, yeah. There wasn’t a lot of information up online or given to you guys about how hurt I was from the accident, but it wasn’t pretty. I broke my leg, and I had to wear this ridiculous cast thing for almost 5 months, and I had a lot of memory problems…” He trailed off, before smiling up at Pete. “I didn’t know who these guys were, I didn’t know where I lived, or what I did for a living. And Pete put up with all that. He took me home, treated me no different, was patient with me and took care of me. He’s… he’s the reason I’m standing here today. I probably wouldn’t have any of those memories back if it wasn’t for Pete’s efforts. He’s been by me every step of the way, and I just, thanks, Pete.”

They hugged, and the crowd cheered for them both. Pete held his best friend tightly in his arms, blinking away a couple of happy tears. He wasn’t allowed to cry onstage. That was something he swore that he’d never do. But goddamn, this was really pushing him.

So he did the next best thing he possibly could to avoid a meltdown. He put his hand on Patrick’s cheek, and guided his soft lips to his own.

And with that, the crowd went wild. Patrick Stump was _back_ baby, and Pete Wentz was here to love and support him all the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayyyyy it's finished. Or maybe nooooo it's finished. I don't know.
> 
> Thanks for giving this book your time and love. Thank you for giving _me_ your time and love. It's been a hell of a ride and I can't thank you enough for your support  <3


End file.
